


Bright Burn

by Shotgun_sinner



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bottom Hannibal Lecter, Bottom Will Graham, Dark Will Graham, Eventual Smut, Feelings, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Murder Husbands, Porn with Feelings, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Top Hannibal Lecter, Top Will Graham, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:22:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 108,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25921270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shotgun_sinner/pseuds/Shotgun_sinner
Summary: Hannibal suffers life-threatening injuries post-fall. Will makes decisions to save Hannibal, while trying to recover the life with him that he's only just realized he wanted. How far will he go to keep what's his?
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 429
Kudos: 660





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CorneliaGrey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorneliaGrey/gifts).



> Hello again all. This work is dedicated to Cornelia Grey, who consistently motivates me to write angst for these two. I have quite a bit already written, and will be posting as soon as it's edited and ready for other people's eyes. 
> 
> If anyone knows the title of the poem about Achilles at the beginning, or who wrote it, I'd be grateful to know. I can't find info on it anywhere. CorneliaGrey also made a gorgeous collage for this fic, because she is wonderful.

  


_"This ache in my chest will not go away  
as I watch you march towards your death  
spear in hand and your  
aching heart inside your chest,  
Don't you see how your death looms above you?  
They say you won't live to see old age  
Lover, our time has come.  
We will never be brighter than we are now,  
our youth and love is all we will ever have.  
We will never be here again." _

Will feels Hannibal turn their bodies as they plummet, taking the brunt force of the impact with his body, shielding Will's own from the worst of it. Will is wrapped around him like a snake, determined not to lose contact with Hannibal upon impact.

Even with Hannibal taking the brunt of it, the force of the impact is brutal. The water is like ice, and it's so cold it feels like Will's skin is being burned from his body, his cheek and shoulder aching like acid is being poured into the wounds. He holds Hannibal tightly to himself under the water, kicking his way to the surface. Hannibal is not moving in his arms, and the realization sends Will into a panic. "Hannibal," he's panting, kicking his way to the water's edge. He's moving, but the tide is the biggest determining factor for him to get there.

Hannibal's stillness in his arms is alarming, and Will is exhausted. His shoulder feels like he's amputating his arm from his own body with every stroke through the waves, but he can't give up. He can't let Hannibal die like this.

He finally gets to a place where he can plant his feet in solid ground, and he drags Hannibal out of the water with every bit of strength he still has in his body. Hannibal's eyes are closed as Will collapses to his knees by his chest, leaning forward to hear if he's breathing, which he isn't. He feels for a pulse with shaking fingers, sobbing as he realizes there isn't a pulse, either. 

He’s going into shock, and he knows it by the tremors in his hands and the way his vision is narrowing out. He can’t pass out, right now. He can’t.

"Hannibal," he pleads, leaning over his face to tip his chin back. He closes Hannibal's nostrils with his fingers, pressing air into his lungs that doesn't seem to go anywhere. There must be water in the way, and he sits up, feeling for his sternum, and he begins compressions. 

He is sobbing as he does, his shoulder feels like there is an ice-pick stuck in it, but he doesn't let up. His compressions are steady. He goes for a round of thirty, then leans over Hannibal's mouth and presses air into his lungs again. Nothing.

"Fuck," he sobs, beginning another round of compressions. He's high on adrenaline right now, his focus narrowed to this one obstacle. He wouldn't stop until Hannibal choked up all that fucking water. If he never did, then he would walk back into the surf and die with him. 

"Come on," he pleads, his voice raw from the cold and swallowed sea water. “Please, please," he's begging through panted breath. His limbs are freezing as he does the compressions, and the tears on his face feel like fire, they're so much warmer than his skin. He leans forward and presses his lips to Hannibal's, pressing air into his lungs again, when thankfully, mercifully, Hannibal turns and expels great amounts of water, choking as he does. 

"Thank you, God, thank you,” Will sobs, hunching over Hannibal’s prone body. "Hannibal?" There is no response from the older man, he’s breathing, but he’s not conscious. Will is still so grateful that he leans over his unconscious form, pressing a kiss to his cheek as tears pour from his eyes. His hands are trembling as they hold Hannibal’s face, smoothing sand from his cheeks. He leans forward again, pressing his lips to Hannibal’s temple. 

Will presses a shaking hand to Hannibal's throat, and his pulse is thready and weak. His shirt is soaked with new blood from his gunshot wound, and Will doesn't know what to do. He won't survive if they simply flee. Hannibal needs real medical attention, and Will doesn't even know where to begin regarding helping him. 

Will wants to run with him. Wants to start his life with him. Wants to finally fucking live, and Hannibal might die.

He's panting in the sand, his tears cutting tracks and burning his cheek wound, and he's pissed off at himself for throwing them off the cliff in the first place. He had Hannibal. He had him in his arms, and he reacts like a scared fucking child. 

Will looks around, trying to figure out what he's going to do. There's a path through the tall grasses to the side of the cliff, one that likely leads to a street. He'd have to carry Hannibal, and he has no idea if he even can. He stands on shaking legs, tugging Hannibal's arm up until he's in a sitting position, and groans through severe over-exertion as he hoists him over his shoulder, his arms tucking awkwardly around his thighs. He won't make it far like this, he knows. He's staggering through the sand, and he can't feel his limbs, but giving up means Hannibal dies, and he can't do that, either. 

The path is mostly clear, and Will is shivering as he limps up the slope. Every step is over the threshold for pain. Hannibal's limp weight over his shoulder feels like a thousand pounds, and Will wishes he were more in shape. His married life had softened him up, and it was probably going to kill the love of his life.

"If you're awake at all, Hannibal, I need you. I need you to wake up and help me," Will pleads, panting through his teeth as he slugs up the hill. "If you die because I'm unable to fucking carry you, I will kill myself. I'm not fucking joking."

There isn't any response, but beyond the farthest edge of the hill, the ocean's sounds are blotted out, and Will can hear the death rattled breaths in Hannibal's throat. They do not make him feel better.

He's crying again as he trudges down the far end of the hill, his thighs screaming that this is more than they can manage. He holds tight and keeps moving.

There's a parking lot near a beach area, and there's a single car in the lot. It's older, and it looks like it's been there for a while, but Will goes to it desperately. "You better at least fucking run," he's saying to himself. "Fuck, it better turn over."

The car doors are locked, so he breaks the driver's side window and unlocks the rest of the doors. He opens the backseat and slides Hannibal in as carefully as he can manage, closing the door once he's in. He slides under the driver's seat, yanking wires down with fingers that have gone completely numb. They aren't doing what his body is telling them to do, and he shakes them out, frustrated. "Fuck, come on, fuck."

He uses his teeth to strip the wires, tapping the exposed metal wiring underneath gently against each other, and the car sputters a few times. He keeps tapping the wires, and eventually the motor turns over. "Yes, oh thank you God." He's crying again, but he's not exactly celebrating.

He's saving Hannibal's life, he reasons as he drives to the nearest ER. The roads are dark as he drives, and he's sick with reluctance to do what he needs to do. Hannibal would be taken away from him again, but he would live. Will wouldn't see him again, but he'd be breathing. After all these years, Will is finally able to admit that Hannibal is all he wants, and he's left with the grueling decision to either take a chance with his life and drive away, or take him to the ER where he can fucking live.

He chooses to make him live.

It's probably not the decision Hannibal would be making for himself but seeing as how he was determined to die on Will, he doesn't get a vote. 

He slams into the ambulance bay, tires screaming as he comes to a stop. "I need help," he yells, running to the door to beat on it. "Help!"

A few nurses and staff come out, opening the back door to the car and taking a measure of the situation. Someone gets a backboard out, and they're sliding Hannibal out of the backseat, securing him to the board carefully. 

He's watching them touch Hannibal, and he's worried that one of them will recognize him and decide he's not worth saving. "Help him," he begs. "Please, please."

An older nurse comes to him, touching his forearm. "We need to know what happened; can you tell us?"

"Home invasion," Will lies. "Some guy broke into our house on the bluffs, and he fucking attacked us. He shot him, he stabbed me. We went over the cliff into the bluff to get away."

He knows this story is going to have questions asked of it. He knows the cops will be here soon, and he'll have to tell the truth. All he wants right now is for them to not know who Hannibal is, so they'll do their jobs and save his life.

"You need to see someone too, honey," she's saying. "You're still bleeding."

Will looks down at himself, shocked to see his shirt is soaked to the waist with blood from his face and shoulder. "Some might be his," he says, and it's like his voice is far away. "I had... I had to carry him."

"Okay, you're alright. We have your friend, you're alright."

He's nauseous, and dizzy. He's fighting to stay awake, but he can't. He leans forward and throws up sea water, surprised to realize he'd even swallowed any. The edges of his vision blur out and darken, and he passes out.

He has no idea how long he's out, but when he comes around, he's in a hospital bed. His throat is dry, and his mouth tastes like chemicals. 

Morphine.

He looks up at the IV hanging to his side, noting an empty unit of blood still attached to his arm. He must have suffered from blood loss. 

It's late in the day, which means he must have been out for hours. He got to the hospital very likely at dawn. He has no idea where Hannibal is, or if they know who he is, at this point. He wants to ask someone, but there's no one around. 

He sits up, his entire body screaming at him to stay put, and slings his legs out of the bed. He unhooks his IV roughly, standing up and staggering to the doorway, where he glances down the hall. It's quiet, but there is a nurse jogging over to him. "Sir?" she says as he walks away from her. "Sir, you really shouldn't be out of bed."

"Where is he?" Will asks, his voice rough. He must have had a surgery, because his throat aches like he's had a tube in it. "Tell me, the guy I brought in, where is he?"

"He's in the ICU," she says quietly, her hands holding his forearm. "He's sedated, sir, please."

"I want to see him," he demands, shaking off her hand. "Please, please let me see him. He's alive?"

She sighs, her eyes glancing away from his. "Stay right here, and I'll get a wheelchair. Okay?"

He nods, leaning his weight against the wall as she sprints to the end of the hall and grabs a wheelchair, bringing it back with her. He sits in it slowly, his back and shoulder aching in a way that suggests he really shouldn't have gotten out of bed. He reaches up and gently touches the gauze on his cheek, noting that they must have sewed his face up, as well. 

She wheels him to the door, using her lanyard to get them into the ICU, then down the hall, and into a small room where Hannibal is attached to every instrument they must have in their arsenal. He makes a sound in the back of his throat, and tears are escaping his eyes as he reaches for the bed. She wheels him closer, where Will wraps his fingers around Hannibal's wrist, the only place that doesn't have an IV sticking out of it.

His skin is cool, which hurts Will to notice. Hannibal's hands were always so warm, anytime they touched Will. "Hey," he says, looking up at Hannibal as a mechanical ventilator breathes for him. "I am here, okay? If you can hear me, I'm right here. It'll take an act of God to keep me from you, do you hear me?"

The nurse makes a noise in the back of her throat. "He suffered very traumatic injuries. The gunshot wound nicked intestines, which we were able to repair in surgery. However, bacteria have caused sepsis, which we are treating with very strong antibiotics. He also suffered a tension pneumothorax, a collapsed lung. That may have been caused by the impact of the bullet, or the impact with the water. He needs a chest tube, to drain the fluid. He's had some signs of pneumonia, likely a secondary infection caused by the sea water, and I cannot stress this enough, this is a critical situation. He needs the ventilator to breathe for him, but it may also worsen the collapsed lung. We are keeping him under sedation to allow his body to heal."

Will stares at him as her words bounce around in his head, anxiety mounting. The steady blip blip of the heart monitor soothes him, and he swallows. "Why hasn't a doctor come in to tell me this?"

The nurse steps around him, her eyes sliding to Will's. "The doctors are on the phone with the FBI, at the moment. They saw his photo, as well as yours on the news in the breakroom.”

"Fuck," Will sobs. "Don't let him die. Please, please."

"I won't let him die," she promises him. "You must be Will Graham. They have a Jack Crawford who is looking forward to seeing you, I think."

He nods, his fingers tightening around Hannibal's wrist. His thumb brushes against the old scar there, the one that Will gave him by proxy, and it forces more tears from his eyes. "I know what you must think, but he's not all bad. He's... really not."

She smiles softly, her eyes looking up to check the monitors briefly before turning back to Will. "No one is all bad."

Tears are coursing down his cheeks, as the monitors flatline. He looks down at Hannibal's wrist, wondering what he might have done, when the nurse launches at the code button. His stomach drops as reality settles that it's nothing he's done, Hannibal is dying.

"No," he sobs, standing from the wheelchair, touching any part of Hannibal he can get his hands on. "Don't fucking die, Hannibal. Please, don't leave me here." Nurses are grabbing at him, telling him he has to leave, and he's fighting them off. "No," he yells, latching onto Hannibal's hand. "Hannibal, please! Live, live." He's crying again as they tear him from the room, and the nurse that brought him in heads the code.

He leans forward, pressing his face to his hands and gives in to a sob. All of this, all these years, and he'd lose Hannibal like this? Without ever being able to tell him how he feels?

It's several moments, but they feel like a lifetime. He hears them call 'clear', and then the heart monitor is blip blipping again and he feels like he can breathe again. How could he leave if Hannibal's heart kept stopping? What if he’d done all of this, just to lose him?

The nurse who brought him here comes out, her hair falling loose around her face. "We got him back, Mr. Graham. He's alright for now."

"I can't leave him," Will says to her, and she looks away. "What if his heart stops again and he doesn’t come back? He can’t die alone. He can’t die here like this. I’m not leaving him," he chokes out, pressing his hands to his eyes to swipe at his tears.

"You have to. They're calling security to watch over him until the FBI gets here. He won't be allowed any visitors at all, give or take ten minutes."

"You let me see him," Will says eventually, slumping into the seat of the wheelchair. "You knew I wouldn't be able to after this. Why? Why help me?"

She pushes him down the hall, stopping to swipe her lanyard to let them out of the unit, walking quietly through the mostly empty hallways. "My ex-husband used to hit me, sometimes," she says softly. "He was not a good man, but for the longest time, I loved him more than anything. If there's anything I understand, it's that you don't get to choose who you love."

Will swipes absently at a tear that escapes his eye, clearing his throat. "No, we don't get to choose, do we?"

She helps him back into bed, tucking the blankets over his waist. "My name is Amy," she says softly. "And I work ICU tomorrow night. I'll stop in here after to tell you how he's doing. If something happens before that, I’ll find you. Okay?"

"Thank you," he says meaningfully, taking her hand and squeezing it gently. 

She smiles at him, nodding her head once before leaving.

It's barely an hour later when his room door is slammed open, Jack stomping into the room like a dickhead. "What the fuck happened out there, Will?"

Will sits up, wincing as he does. "Excuse me?"

Jack seems to notice for the first time that Will was quite seriously injured, and he sighs. "I thought we had a plan. I thought we weren't going to save Lecter. Then I hear that you fucking carried his dead body here for them to resurrect."

"In theory, Jack, letting someone die is a good idea. When it's happening in front of you, it's another. Your plan didn't work. We were ambushed. Hannibal saved my fucking life. Dolarhyde was stabbing me in the fucking face, and Hannibal saved me from it. Even after a gunshot wound, he saved me." It was the truth, and it wasn't. They had both killed the dragon, but Will wasn't about to confess all that to Jack. Let the crime scene techs tell him that.

Jack closes his eyes, pacing the room, "I failed you, Will. I didn't think Dolarhyde would intercept us. I didn't think any of it through."

"Clearly," Will agrees. "I saved Hannibal. So now what happens to him?"

"He goes back to the hospital, under the care of Alana once he's better. From what I gather, he's probably going to die, anyway. So it doesn't matter too much."

Will flinches at his words, but Jack, thankfully, doesn't notice, as he's still pacing the room. "We have a detail on him for now. Once he's stable enough to move, if he is ever stable enough, we'll bring him straight back to the hospital."

"Sounds like you have it all figured out, then."

"How are you, by the way?" 

Will knows he isn't asking because he cares. He's asking because he's trying to figure out how big of a lawsuit Will has. "I'll have a scar on my face. Maybe some nerve damage to the cheek. My shoulder is fucked, but it was before Dolarhyde got to it, so there's that."

"Is that all? No other injuries?"

"I'm fine, Jack."

He nods once, fluffing his jacket. "I've got to go handle some things; this shit is a fuck show. I'll be back tomorrow for an official statement."

"Right," Will says dismissively.

He's left alone again, and all he can think about, all he wants, is Hannibal. He's in the same building as him, but he may as well be on the moon. 

His door slams open again several hours later, and Molly comes in, her hair a mess and her arm still in a sling. "Will, oh my God, Will," she's crying, and he wishes he could leap from the window to get away from it. She comes to the side of his bed, leaning over the railing to kiss him, tugging his face towards hers and he hisses. 

"Oh my God, I'm sorry! Your face! My sweet man, what happened?" Her face is red from crying, and he can barely look at her.

"I'm okay, Molly. It's fine."

She leans over the railing again, tipping his face up and pressing her lips to his, pulling away with a pinched expression when he doesn't pucker his lips for her at all. "What's wrong?"

"I told you I would be different," he whispers, tugging his face out from her hands. His eyes are on his lap, and he hears her sniffling beside him. 

"You've been through a lot," she reasons. "You're still you, though."

He takes a measured breath, letting it out after a moment. "Where is Walt?"

Molly's eyes dart away, her bottom lip tucking between her teeth. "He's with my mom."

"He didn't want to see me, right? I'm sure the news is already out that Will Graham might've killed again, this time with his murder husband. Walt loves reading about how I’m a monster, and the article he read must have been a doozy, am I close?" His smirk feels tight, his cheek throbbing under the gauze.

"Will," she chastises. Her mouth purses as she looks at him. "Walt saw an article on TattleCrime, yeah. That the Dragon was butchered. She did say that she thinks you and... the serial killer did it to him. Walt doesn't understand self-defense. He doesn't understand that I would have killed him that night that he attacked us just as quickly as you did. All the rest of the garbage that she writes, your relationship with that monster, it’s just to sell papers. Walt is too young to realize that."

"Ah," Will says softly. "You think Hannibal and I did what we did in self-defense? Let me assure you, Molly. It wasn't."

"What the hell is wrong with you, Will?" She asks, her bottom lip quivering. "Where is my husband? You said you wouldn't be the same, and fuck, you weren't joking. What you should have told me is that half of you would be gone, and I would have reconsidered."

Half of him was gone. What a peculiar choice of words that happened to be exactly right. "Half of me is in the ICU," he says to himself, but she heard it.

"What?" she asks harshly.

Will shakes his head, glancing out the window. He can feel her staring at him, but he doesn't acknowledge it. 

"What did you say? Half of you is in the ICU? Is that where that fucking serial killing, sicko, cannibal is, Will?"

Will flinches, his eyes sliding over to her face, his expression deadly. "Hannibal. His name is Hannibal. Using his name won't conjure him like Beetlejuice."

"You sound fucking disappointed by that," she spits.

He huffs out a laugh, "I guess I am."

She tentatively reaches her hand out and touches the back of his hand. "I love you, Will. You've been through a lot in the last day. I'm not... I won't push you. And I won't let you push me away, either. Jack told me that you said... Han... he saved your life. I think you're grateful to him for it, although I don't understand why he would help you. It must be confusing, when such a horrible person does something... decent."

She had no idea what she was talking about, and he wasn't in the mood to correct her. "Yeah. Confusing."

"You're such a sweet man. You’re always looking for the good in people, but sometimes, honey, there just isn’t any.”

"Molly," he sighs. "I'm tired, okay?"

"I'm not leaving without a kiss," she says indignantly. 

He's looking at her like he's never seen her before, this childish shit is the least of his issues at the moment. "There's a couch across the room, then."

She looks like he's slapped her, and he feels a moment of guilt. It's not her fault that he's this way. It's not her fault that he's in love with someone else and has been for the better part of a decade. It’s also not her fault that he smoothed her over all of his gaping wounds, covering them up and letting them fester until this point where looking at her feels like he’s betraying someone else.

She stands up abruptly, walking to the couch and settling on it, her eyes lingering on his own. "You won't push me away, Will."

"Good night, then."

He turns on his side, away from the couch on his bad shoulder. It hurts, but he doesn't even care too much. His thoughts are consumed by the thought that Hannibal is somewhere on this floor, and his heart could stop beating at any moment. Would he feel it? Would he know if it happened? He felt like he should. Maybe something dissonant breaking inside of him, a dark shadow passing over him. He hopes, vaguely, that they’re connected in such a way. 

He hopes he'd know the precise moment if Hannibal decides to leave him. Will already knows he'll follow him into the dark.


	2. Chapter 2

_“I will never leave him. It will be this, always, for as long as he will let me.  
If I had had words to speak such a thing, I would have. But there were none that seemed big enough for it, to hold that swelling truth.  
As if he had heard me, he reached for my hand. I did not need to look; his fingers were etched into my memory, slender and petal-veined, strong and quick and never wrong.  
“Patroclus,” he said. He was always better with words than I.”  
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles_

The next morning, he wakes up hot. He's got sweat coming from everywhere, and he feels like he's been beat up. There's a doctor and a nurse he doesn't know talking over him, and he has no idea why they're bothering him. "Mr. Graham," the doctor greets. "Your shoulder seems to be infected. We've lanced the wound, and we're giving you antibiotics via IV," she informs him.

He sighs up at her, his eyes rolling into his head as she shines a light on him. "Am I septic?" he asks hopefully. Maybe that would get him into the ICU.

"No," the doctor laughs. "Just an infection. You'll feel much better after a few doses of Vancomycin. It seems you got yourself a MRSA infection in the water. Rapid PCR testing came back positive. Vanco will knock it out. In the meantime, you’re on contact precautions."

He nods, fighting off sleep. "Water?"

"We will bring you a pitcher. If you need anything else, press the call button."

Molly is still here, her face concerned as she looks down at him. "I Googled MRSA, Will. It's dangerous," she says gravely, a few tears coursing down her cheeks. 

"I've gotten it before when I got stabbed years ago as a cop. It's fine, Vanco will fix it."

"Oh," she says softly, leaning over the bed and pressing her lips to Will's own. He keeps his lips stiff under hers, angry that she took advantage of an infection to get what she wanted. It seems everyone can be manipulative when they want to be.

She pulls away, her face pinched in grief. "Is it over between us, Will? Was what happened to you so bad that you can't be happy again?"

Will tips his head away, licking his lips to clear them of her vanilla chapstick. "I can't explain it to you, Molly. All I know is that there is no recovering from what I've got ailing me. There's no amount of time that's gone by that's dissipated it. There's no distance that's eased it. There is nothing that'll help me get over it."

"What are you talking about? What is it you're referring to? Is it... the darkness you think you have in you?"

The darkness he knows he has in him, but he doesn't correct her. "No, it's not that."

"Are you talking about... do you mean to say that..." her eyes are watching his, and he glances away from her. 

Jack picks that exact moment to walk in, a few FBI officers milling around by the doorway. "Molly, hello. It's good to see you. Is it alright if we take a moment to talk to Will?"

She nods her head robotically, swallowing tightly as she looks down at Will. "Should I leave?"

"No," Will says softly. "Stay, please."

She smiles at him, sitting on the side of his bed as he adjusts the back to sit up. He wants her to hear what he has to say. He wants her to finally know him. 

Will recounts the interception Dolarhyde managed, telling the story the way he saw it as it happened. 

"Did Lecter kill anyone, once he was out?"

"No, he did take a car from a deceased officer so we could get away."

"You got in the car with him?" Jack asks indignantly. 

"I had to, Jack. What, did you want me to let him drive away?"

"So, Lecter drives you to a house that he had under an alias. You were there for hours, Will. What happened while you were there?"

Will sighs. "We each took a shower. Hannibal had spare clothes for me, from years ago. The ones I wore were covered in blood from the officer that had died in the passenger seat. He and I had dinner, we talked. We waited."

"In all that time, it didn't occur to you to call someone? Tell them where you were?"

"No, Hannibal and I were going to handle it."

“What did the two of you talk about?”

Will slides his eyes over to Molly. “Our past, together. Mostly reminiscing. He asked about my dogs. He asked if I still went fishing. I asked him what he’s been reading, what he’s been drawing.” Even with his empathy, he can’t discern the expression on Molly’s face. Part of it is disbelief, another part is disgust.

“Friendly banter before you kill a man? Why don’t I believe that?”

Will chuckles, “Believe what you want. I can tell you what he’s been drawing, and I haven’t seen it. You can corroborate my story by checking his cell. He draws me. A lot. Buildings in Italy. The Norman chapel, his office, my house in Wolf Trap. Check if you want.”

“Not sure I’m that interested, Will.”

“Well, you sound interested,” Will laughs.

“Why did he have clothes for you, there?”

“I told you I wanted to run away with him all those years ago. I guess that was a safehouse for our getaway.”

“You didn’t know about it?”

“No, Jack. He never told me about it.”

"At some point, Lecter is standing between you and the windows when-"

"He did, didn't he?" Will interrupts, his throat bobbing with a rough swallow. "He put himself in front of me. He handed me my glass of wine, and he fucking stood directly in front of me, exactly where the shot came from behind him. He knew. He knew it was coming, and he put himself between me and the bullet."

"Okay," Jack says slowly. "Yeah. The shot comes, tears through Lecter. Dolarhyde comes in, then what?"

"He set up a camera, he was recording some of it. I was taking my gun out to shoot him when he stabbed me in the face. I took it out and stabbed him, I think. He took it out and stabbed me again, in my shoulder."

"Where was Lecter while this was happening?"

"He came out, the second time I was stabbed. We attacked him. I don't know who did what, but we took him out. Hannibal tore his throat out with his teeth, and I gutted him wide open."

Molly's eyes were wide as she watched him, brimming with tears that fell over her cheeks relentlessly. Let her hear how she's married to a monster. Let her understand that who he is, is not who she thinks she married.

"Then what?"

"Then, Hannibal took my hand and helped me up. I... I threw us off the cliff."

"Why?" Jack asks quietly. "Why did you do that?"

"I'm suffering an infection, Jack. We'll have to reschedule this for another day."

"It's my last question, and you'll answer it."

"Because I felt like it was my only choice, at the time."

Jack sighs, glancing away. "You could have just shoved him off. Why take yourself with him?"

Because Will loves him. Because Will can't live with him, can't live without him. Because Will is terrified of... becoming. Because of a whole lot of reasons that don't matter, because it's likely he'll never see Hannibal again. "I killed Dolarhyde just like Hannibal did. We are both monsters."

"This is a mess, Will," Jack sighs.

"Yeah, I know."

"I'll be back tomorrow, but just for a visit. Okay?"

"Sure."

He watches Jack leave, and Molly is still softly crying to his side. "I am so sorry, Will. My God."

He is... tired of watching her have feelings. It's a bizarrely removed emotion, as he's supposed to love her. Will Graham died in the sea, and whatever came out is not interested in pretending, anymore. "Go home, Molly. Get some rest."

"I'm good right here, sweet man," she smiles. 

He refrains from rolling his eyes as she goes to the couch to get her cellphone. "I'm just going to call Walt, and my mom. They're worried about you."

"Okay," he says awkwardly, unsure of what else to say at this point. 

"Do you want me to tell them you're thinking of them?" She asks hopefully.

"Tell them whatever you want."

He closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep.

He's awoken some time later and it’s dark out. Amy is touching his arm softly. There’s a lamp on across the room where Molly is sitting, playing with her phone on the couch, and he blinks himself awake. "Hey," he grumbles out, voice rough with sleep. 

"Hi," Amy smiles down at him. "So, good news. His fever broke today. The sepsis is managed, it looks like, but it'll be a few days more of antibiotics to make sure of it."

"That's... that sounds like good news?" Will asks hopefully. 

"It is," she smiles. "They're saying that tomorrow they might be taking out his chest tube. The drain output is almost nothing, at this point."

"Good," Will says, leaning back into the pillows and smiling his first, genuine, smile in days. "That's good. He's still not breathing on his own?"

"No," she admits. "But, if it's worth anything, I'm optimistic. He seems strong, and that's a good sign."

"He's too stubborn to die," Will laughs, and for a brief moment, he allows himself to hope.

"Is this fucking appropriate?" Molly asks. "Why are you in here telling Will about that man?"

Amy blushes, "Forgive me. Take care, Will."

Will is fucking pissed as she hightails it out of his room. "She was in here telling me about him because I asked her to. You had no right to interrupt her."

Molly walks over to the bed, her mouth hanging open. "I had no right? I am your wife, Will. I have the only right! I’ve tried to be patient with you, but this is going too far. What were you trying to tell me before? Are you in love with him? Is that what you were trying to say to me?"

Will says nothing, his eyes welling up with tears that don't manage to spill over. She takes a sharp breath, sucking her teeth. "I hope he dies."

"Get out," Will says softly. "Grab your shit. Get out."

"Have you been in love with him this whole time? Is this why… why you don’t tell me about him when I ask? Here I was, thinking you don’t talk about him because he’s a fucking monster who’s ruined your life. But that’s not it, is it? Who is he to you?" she asks, her voice breaking in a sob.

"Everything,” Will says softly, his voice breaking as he confesses his sins. “He’s everything. Get out."

She snatches her purse from the couch and slams the door on her way out. 

Aside from the hope that Hannibal makes it, the only feeling he has as he closes his eyes is relief.

It's five days later, and they're discharging him. His cheek and shoulder are doing much better, and he's no longer on a Vanco drip, which is also good news.

Amy had come later on in the day, almost every day, to tell him about Hannibal's progress, which was good. The drain was out, his wounds were no longer infected, and his fever had stayed gone. His lungs were still in rough shape, though, but she confided that she felt it would be a matter of time before he would be breathing over it on his own. When that happened, the vent would be taken out.

They had weaned him off of sedation, and he was now, apparently, merely resting under a reasonable amount of pain medication. Otherwise, Amy assured him, he was doing wonderfully. "Thank you for everything. I would have torn my hair out if I couldn't know how he was."

"I'm sure of it," she smiles. 

"If... if I call, will you tell me how he is?"

She bites her lip, "I could lose my job just by telling you what I've told you, but yeah. If you call and ask for me, I'll tell you. I’m off the next two days, though. I’m sorry."

"Thank you," he says meaningfully. "Really, just... thanks."

He's discharged and standing outside the hospital realizing he has nowhere to go. Molly won't be picking him up, he made sure of that. He doesn't even want to go back home. He has no money, and no idea what to do with himself. 

Unless.

He takes a cab to the bluff house, and it's taped up in crime scene tape. The inside has already been scrubbed clean by crime scene cleaners, and he goes out to the shed to grab a tarp for the broken window to secure it before heading inside. The inside is... strangely empty without Hannibal. He stands where Hannibal was shot, closing his eyes and letting the pendulum swing. 

Hannibal stands in front of the windows, his eyes catching movement outside. He puts himself deliberately between the window and Will, shielding what he holds most dear in this world from certain death. Will could kill him, once he'd made his presence known. This was his design.

Will sobs as he opens his eyes, falling to the floor. He had no idea what he was going to do. He only knew he had to get Hannibal out.

Jack calls him two days later to ask where the fuck he is.

"Around," he says unhelpfully while eating a can of baked beans.

"Molly called, she said you're not coming home. What the fuck happened, Will? Why is your marriage on the rocks?"

"It's not on the rocks, Jack," Will lies. "She is... she doesn't get what I do. She doesn't understand who I am when I finish a case like this. She's never seen it. So, she's upset that I don't want to kiss and cuddle and talk about rainbows. I'll work through it, just not right now."

Jack seems mollified by his answer. "Marriage to someone outside of the bureau is... a challenge. Civilians don't get the shit we see."

"No," Will agrees easily. "They don't. This is worse for Molly because she’s never seen it."

"I didn't call to give you relationship advice," Jack admits. "I actually called because Lecter is awake and asking to see you."

Will's knees give out, and he slides to the floor, clasping his phone in his hand. "Oh?"

"Yeah, I don't know if it's a good idea for you, or not."

"I'd like to thank him for saving my life," Will says, even though it isn't true.

"I figured that. We're going to send you in alone, see if we can get him to admit to planning this with Dolarhyde."

"Why would you think he did that?" The idea of it alone is just completely ridiculous.

"How else did Dolarhyde know exactly where our envoy was headed?"

Will thinks briefly of his encounter with Dolarhyde in his motel room but says nothing of it. "My bet is he was watching us the entire time. He was just waiting for our move. I'll ask him, though."

"Can you come to the hospital today? From what I understand, he's lucid."

"Yeah." Will says, standing abruptly. "I can be there in a half hour, if that works."

"It does, actually. See you soon."

Will showers as quickly as he can, dressing himself in clothes from Hannibal's closet. They don't smell like him, as he hadn't worn them in years, but they still felt good against his skin. 

He calls a cab and heads to the hospital, where an FBI van is stationed outside the doors. "Will," Jack greets formally, his voice tense. "I wasn't granted permission to fucking bug him, as he's likely still under the influence of pain medication. You'll still record this shit, do you hear me?"

Will nods, taking the little recording device from Jack's hand, looking down at it. “I’ll press record before I get in his room.”

“Good, yeah. I don’t know what good it’ll be, but I want to hear what he has to say to you. I appreciate you doing this.”

Will nods, leaving the van to head inside. His heart is pounding in his chest, and he’s not surprised to find he’s sweating. He takes the elevator to the fourth floor, heading to the left for the ICU. There’s a guard outside the door that nods his head as he walks up, flagging him in with a lanyard.

He walks in and goes down the hall, his hands shaking as he rounds the corner for Hannibal’s room, where there’s another agent sitting guard over him. 

He opens the door, and Hannibal is sleeping in his bed. His skin is deathly pale, but he's thankfully without any tubes or wires sticking out of him aside from a few bags attached to his arm with an IV. 

He closes the door gently behind him, tears welling up in his eyes and spilling down his cheeks as he looks at the broken man in the bed before him. Hannibal’s eyes blink awake, and the hollows under each eye look like bruises. “Will?” 

Will walks over to the bed, sitting gently to the side of Hannibal’s hip to take his hand in his. His skin is still cool, but the grip of his fingers around Will’s own feels exhilarating. The tears are clogging Will’s throat, and he leans forward and presses his face against Hannibal’s chest, covered in an ugly johnnie, and allows a sob to break free from his throat. He takes a minute to pull himself together, sitting up again to look at Hannibal’s face. “Hi,” he says lamely.

Hannibal is smiling, his eyes glassy as they look at Will, “Hi.”

Will squeezes his fingers in his hand, covering the long digits with his other hand to bring some warmth into them. “You kept trying to die on me. I’m still pretty mad at you about it.”

“My dear Amy was telling me,” he says quietly. 

“Was she?” Will asks, a blush rising from the collar of his sweater. Hannibal’s sweater.

“From what I understand, you brought me back to life and carried me to a car that you stole to get me here. It sounds like it was very heroic,” Hannibal teases.

“It didn’t feel heroic. It felt like I was a fucking idiot who put us in that position in the first place. I was scared, Hannibal. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry,” Will says, glancing away from Hannibal as more tears fall down his cheeks. 

“My Will,” Hannibal sighs. “I’d forgive you anything, but there’s nothing to forgive, here.”

“Are you okay?” Will asks him, glancing down his body, noticing that he’s lost too much weight. 

“I feel very tired, but I am most likely not going to perish,” Hannibal grins. 

“That’s a relief,” Will sighs. “You coded when Amy brought me to see you that first night. I thought I had knocked a wire off you or something, but no. You were just trying to die. I wanted to pound the life back into you with my fists, but they wouldn’t let me.”

“I can imagine they’d frown upon that,” Hannibal agrees. “How do you feel?”

Will reaches up to touch his cheek. The bandage is gone, and he knows Hannibal can see there is some nerve damage. Some parts of his face don’t smile or move the way it used to. “I am fine. You shielded me with your body twice that night, making sure I was fine.”

“I protect what’s dear to me,” Hannibal says softly. “You look good in my clothes, even if they are too big on you.”

Will grins down at him, a blush coming up his cheeks. “I think they’d be big on you, too, right now.”

Hannibal smiles at that, licking his dry lips. “What brings you here, Will?”

Will reaches out and takes the small, pink, plastic cup of water and brings it to Hannibal’s mouth, who sips it gratefully. “Jack wants me to record a conversation. I’ll press record when we’re ready to pretend. Right now, I just want to be with you.”

“Have you missed me much?” Hannibal asks quietly, his fingers smoothing against the back of Will’s hand.

“I’ve missed you for far longer than you’ve been here,” Will admits finally. “I’ve missed you every day that’s passed for the last three years. I’m an idiot.”

“Yes,” Hannibal smiles, but his eyes are tired. “I’ve missed you, too, Will.”

Will leans forward and presses a chaste kiss to Hannibal’s mouth. It’s brief, but the touch is electric even as he pulls away. “You’re tired,” Will sighs. “I should… we should record something before you’re too tired to do it.”

“Of course,” Hannibal whispers, his tongue tasting his lips where Will pressed a kiss. The sight of it makes Will’s heart constrict. 

Will takes out the little recorder and presses record. “Doctor Lecter,” he greets formally.

“Will,” Hannibal smirks. “It’s good to see you.”

“Is it?” Will asks, twining their fingers together. “That makes one of us.”

“I’m curious as to why you would try to kill me and then carry me to the hospital for care,” Hannibal says, sliding his hand up Will’s arm to touch his elbow and tug him closer. 

“I’m not like you, Doctor Lecter. You were dying. I couldn’t let someone die if I could help them.” Will reaches out, pressing his fingers over Hannibal’s heart, willing it to never cease beating again. 

“I imagine you’re here for something. I don’t think you’d come just for a friendly visit,” Hannibal says, gliding his hand over Will’s that’s pressed to his heart, twining their fingers to bring Will’s palm to his mouth where he presses a kiss. 

“I want to know why you would plan such an interception with our dragon,” Will says, sliding his fingers from Hannibal’s and touching the side of his face. 

Hannibal looks amused by the question, his eyebrow quirking, and Will shrugs. “You think I planned that? Why would I want to be in a position with no upper hand? Surely you think better of me than that.”

Will glides his thumb across a sharp cheekbone, marveling at the texture of his skin under his fingers. “I hoped you were smarter than that, but I’m never sure.”

“You look well,” Hannibal says, reaching towards Will’s face, who leans forward so Hannibal can slide his fingers home along his jawline, cupping around his ear. 

“You look terrible,” Will says with a laugh, turning his head to nuzzle into Hannibal’s touch.

“Dying a few times will do that,” Hannibal says quietly, trailing his fingers affectionately along the sharp edge of Will’s jaw. “I’m rather tired, I’m afraid. Do tell Uncle Jack I’m thinking of him.”

“You’ll be seeing him soon, I’m sure.”

Will clicks the stop button, leaning forward again to press his mouth to Hannibal’s own. He pulls away, peppering kisses against his cheekbones and temple, breathing harshly to keep errant tears at bay. “I’m getting you out of here,” Will says quietly. “Can you walk, yet? Should I wait a few days?”

Hannibal sighs, “I can’t get far yet, but I also fear that if I wait, my convalescence will be finishing up under Alana’s care.”

“No,” Will whispers harshly. “It won’t. What do I need to take care of you outside of here?”

“They have me on Gentamycin for my pneumonia, as well as my wound. I need it for at least another week. You might be able to get your hands on it in a veterinary clinic. Otherwise, all I need is fluids and clean bandages.”

“Okay, Gentamycin. Got it. Do you have money anywhere? Passports? Something like that?”

Hannibal nods, “In the bluff house, by the fireplace. There is a stone that you can lift up. Everything we’d need is in there.”

“Okay,” Will says quickly. “Give me a day, maybe two. I’ve got some things I need to wrap up. I’ll be back for you. I swear it, Hannibal.”

“I love you, Will,” Hannibal whispers quietly. The look on Hannibal’s face is… hesitantly hopeful, as he looks up at Will. 

“Hannibal,” Will says, his voice breaking as tears trail his cheeks. “I’m in love with you.”

Hannibal’s own eyes are glistening, and he smiles. “Come back to me soon, please.”

“Rest. Heal. I’m coming for you.” He leans forward and brings their mouths together for what he hopes won’t be their last time, slanting his mouth over Hannibal’s own to deepen the kiss briefly. Their tongues slide only for a moment before he’s pulling away. Even though Hannibal tastes stale from being so sick, and the brevity of the kiss, it’s still better than any kiss he’s had in his life. 

Will stands on shaking legs, lifting Hannibal’s hand to kiss his knuckles before he’s backing towards the door. Every step away feels like he’s being gutted, and it’s clear that Hannibal feels the same way. 

“Promise me, Will. Tell me this isn’t another game. Please, tell me you aren’t manipulating me again. I won’t be able to take it. I won’t. I’d rather you have let me die in the sea than have you leave me again.”

Will’s heart shatters in his chest as he looks at Hannibal, his mouth falling open. “This isn’t a game, Hannibal. Fuck, I… I know you don’t have any reason to have any faith in me at all, but please. Give me one more chance. I’ll make it up to you with the rest of my life.”

Hannibal inhales deeply, his fingers twisting into the rough fabric of his blankets. “Alright.”

Will walks over to the bed quickly, pressing a kiss to Hannibal’s temple. “Heal for me in the meantime. Keep your heart beating.”

“It beats for you, Will.”

Will nods, heading for the door and opening it, glancing back for a moment to press record on the device. “Take care, Doctor Lecter.”

“Goodbye, Will.”

Will leaves the device recording as he leaves the hospital, his entire body numb from anxiety as he presses the button for the elevator. There was no way Will was getting him out without killing people. The thought didn’t affect him as much as he thought it would. He had a design in his head, and he was going to bring it to life.


	3. Chapter 3

_“He is more worth to you, perhaps. But the stranger is someone else's friend and brother. So which life is more important?”  
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles_

Once back outside, Will hands Jack the device, keeping his face neutral as he does. “Maybe we should have waited a day. He was sleeping when I got there, and he could barely stay awake while I was.”

“Fuck,” Jack sighs, taking the recorder. “So, nothing, then?”

“Not a fucking thing, unless you wanted me to record him snoring.”

“Fuck,” Jack spits again. “We’ll have a listen. Maybe there’s something he said that’s… I don’t know, secretly useful.”

“Doubt it,” Will chuckles. “I’ve got to go fix my marriage, Jack.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you do. Thanks, Will.”

“Anytime, Jack.”

He calls a cab to take him back to the bluff house, and he finds the stone that Hannibal was talking about. It doesn’t look like it would move at all, and Will grins at the stash of money and passports he finds there. He packs it all into a duffle bag from the closet, setting the stone back in its place perfectly.

He goes to the closet and packs everything Hannibal might need, from clothes, to pajamas and underwear. He grabs a few pairs of shoes, and socks. He takes all the toiletries from the bathroom and packs all of it into as many bags as he can carry before calling a cab to get him to a car rental place. 

He gets a truck as a rental. It’s the last one on the lot, and he’s thanking God it's there as he packs all the bags into the backseat. He drives up to Maine, stopping only for gas and gas station food, before continuing on his way. Eleven hours later he's pulling into his driveway, feeling completely exhausted.

Molly opens the door as he walks up the driveway, her face drawn. “Why are you here?” she asks with scorn in her voice.

His dogs are jumping around his legs, and the thought of never seeing them again momentarily knocks the wind out of him. He grabs Winston, pressing a kiss to his snout. 

“I don’t want to fight, Molly,” he says, wiping the sleep from his face. “I’m staying at a hotel for now, while we work through this. I just need some stuff from my closet.”

She tips her head as she looks at him. “You want to work through it?”

“Obviously,” he says softly as he walks up to her. “I’ve just… I’ve been through a lot. This week has been horrible. I need to come back from it, and I’ve made a few appointments with a therapist who can talk me through it.”

She’s smiling at him, and he feels almost nothing about it. “I want to work us out, too. Come on, grab some stuff. Although you could stay here if you wanted.”

“I can’t,” he says tiredly. “I’m having… really bad night terrors. I can’t… I’m violent when I wake up. If I hurt you or Walt because of it…”

“Oh,” she says, her face pinching in the way it does when she feels regretful that Will is… different than others. “Yeah, then it’s best you sleep somewhere else, until you work through that.”

He heads up to the bedroom to pack some clothes and toiletries, and she follows him up there while he does. He’s trying to figure out how to get her out of his line of sight for a minute so he can grab the keys he’s here for without her seeing it.

“I lost my wallet, my credit cards, my license,” he groans, tossing his clothes into a duffel bag. It’s a lie, but it gives him an opening for her to go get him money or a debit card from her wallet.

“How are you paying for a motel, then?”

“Jack gave me a credit card for bureau expenses. I’ve got to figure out something else, though.”

She gets up and leaves the room, and he hears her patter down the stairs. He walks to the end table by his bed quickly, pulling the keychain from the drawer to stuff it in his pants pocket.

She comes back up the stairs as he’s picking up his duffel bag, handing him an envelope. “Our vacation fund,” she says quietly. “It’s not much, but it’ll take care of the psych co-pays and motel, right?”

He takes it from her and feels his first twinge of remorse. “I’m sorry, Molly. I’m sorry I’m so fucked up.”

“I knew what you were when we got together,” she says quietly, and all remorse he was feeling goes up in smoke. He’s not even sure what she means by that. If she knew, why did she marry him in the first place?

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he says, heading for the door. 

“Do I really not even get a kiss?” she asks, her voice unsure and small.

He’d have to do this if he wanted a chance of escape. He walks over to her and tips her head up, pressing a chaste, but lingering kiss to her lips. She tries to deepen it, but he pulls away. “I’m sorry, I just…”

“Yeah,” she whispers regretfully. “Get your mind fixed, then we can fix us. I love you, sweet man.”

Get his mind fixed. He wonders if she’s ever been capable of really loving him for who he pretends to be, never mind who he really is.

He nods his head, giving her his half-smile at the doorway, before heading out the door. He wants to take Winston with him, but he doesn’t. Instead, he kneels by the door, tugging him close. “Be good for me, bud.” He presses another kiss to his dog’s head, running his fingers through the soft fur behind his ears.

He stands up and removes his wedding ring, holding it for a second before dropping it into the snow in his front yard. He didn’t want it, or need it, anymore.

He leaves after that, taking one last look at his house for the last year and a half. He’s certain the only thing he’s really going to miss is his dogs. 

He parks the truck in a motel parking lot because he just can’t stay awake anymore. His eyes are heavy, and his body is still recovering. He doesn’t even bother going in to get a room. He just closes his eyes, and sleeps.

He wakes up a few hours later with a full bladder, and he feels even more tired than he did before. He pulls out of the motel parking lot, driving down the road to pull into a fast food place. He uses the bathroom, then orders himself a coffee and an egg and cheese on a bagel, before heading to the boatyard. 

It’s quiet here in the wintertime. It’s good, because he doesn’t want anyone seeing him or being able to describe his boat to anyone. He hitches it to his rental truck, securing it down and getting the rear lights working, before driving from the storage place.

Ten hours later he’s back in Maryland, and he’s absolutely numb with exhaustion. He pulls his phone from his pocket, calling the hospital one last time to make sure Hannibal is still doing well.

“ICU, this is Mark,” someone greets.

“Hi, I uh, was wondering if Amy is there? She’s the nurse for my family member.”

“Sure, just a moment.”

He waits while the phone is put down, only a few moments before she picks up. “This is Amy,” she says hurriedly.

“Amy, it’s Will Graham.”

“Oh, hi. Just a moment, okay?”

He hears rustling, and then she’s back. “Sorry, looking for a bit of privacy. He’s doing good today. I took him for a walk, but it was hindered because they demanded he wear chains. They also put a muzzle on him, and I don’t know why, but I’m just certain he wouldn’t have hurt me.”

“It would have been rude if he did. I’m certain he wouldn’t have. He’s okay, though?”

“He is,” she says. “He’s taken short trips around the floor, and he’s not as winded as he was last night when they took him around. He’s getting stronger every day.”

“Thank you, just… thank you.”

“Anytime. I’m sorry, I’ve got to go.”

“It’s fine. Talk to you soon.”

He hangs up, and he feels lighter and better than he has in weeks. Hannibal is walking, and stronger, and Will doesn’t think he’ll ever hear better news in his life.

He throws his phone out, as he doesn’t want anyone tracking it from this point on. He’s got a burner phone next to him that he bought at a gas station, and it’s a smartphone. He thinks about finding a motel and sleeping, but he can’t. He’s no where close to being done for the day.

He groans as he Googles the nearest marina, trailing his boat along behind the rental. It’s about an hour from the hospital, but Will thinks it’s a good idea to be as far from the hospital as he can get when they head out. 

He gets the boat in the water, getting some help from an attendant to do it. It’s not much, his boat. Thirty-four feet, in fact. It’s sailed him to Europe before, and he takes care of it. It’ll get them wherever Hannibal wants to go. 

Once the boat is loaded up with all their duffel bags, he makes his way to a grocery store and buys as much groceries as he can hopefully fit in his small fridge below deck. He stops in the medical supply aisles, stocking up on gauze, bandages, antiseptic washes, and anything else that looks like it might be even remotely useful, before checking out and heading back to the boat.

He unpacks everything, packing the fridge tight and filling the cabinets with canned goods and coffee. He’d need his coffee if he’s expected to get them anywhere.

He makes the small bed, unpacking the bags of sheets and fluffing them out to air them of their stale, packed away, smell. The boat is looking homey when he finishes, and he hopes he remembered everything they’d need.

It’s still early when he’s done, only after seven. He’s already decided he’d give Hannibal another day to recover, because Will still needs to get Gentamycin, and he’s not even sure how to do that, yet.

His stomach growls at him, and he pulls into a Subway to get a tuna foot long, eating it so quickly that his stomach turns as he’s doing it. He needs to sleep, unfortunately, so he goes to a motel and checks in for two nights. 

He takes a long shower, cleaning himself with the shitty motel soaps, but feels much better afterwards. After changing into a pair of clean pajamas, he climbs into bed. He’s asleep before his head hits the pillow.

Will wakes up late in the afternoon the next day, and he’s groaning as he sits up in bed. He feels exhausted, but he’s relieved he managed to get some sleep for the first time in a few days. He takes another shower, waking himself up under the spray of it, and he finds he’s nervous. This is it, and he’s either getting Hannibal out, or he’ll die trying.

He walks across the street to the diner, and gets himself a cheesesteak and a coffee, earning himself a look from the waitress. He knows the scar on his face is bad. Eyes linger on it no matter where he goes. A flicker of unease passes over him, wondering if Hannibal finds the scar as revolting as everyone else does.

He doubts it, but… he still feels unease at the thought.

He waits until nightfall, well into the night to go to a local pet clinic. It’s closed, obviously, so Will climbs in through a window from the back. He hopes to God there’s no motion sensors on the windows and huffs a breath of relief when he realizes there isn’t.

The medical supplies are behind a locked door, and Will kicks the door in to get inside. There’s a fridge in the back with glass doors, and he sees medications in it. He rummages through the fridge, frustrated that he doesn’t find Gentamycin in it. 

There are locked cabinets above the counter by the fridge, and he pries them open, thanking God as he finds more antibiotics. It’s here that he finds Gentamycin. He takes all they have of it, not sure if the dosage is less or the same as whatever they’re giving Hannibal in the hospital.

There are some pain meds in the cabinet, too, and he takes some of those, just in case. 

Google maps tells him there’s a small ammo shop down the street, and he heads there next. It’s also closed, and he crosses his fingers as he breaks the side window, relieved when nothing happens aside from the sound of glass breaking. 

He takes a gun that has a silencer and takes a box of ammo to go with it. He doesn’t bother with much else. If this doesn’t get him far enough, then nothing else would, either.

He gets back in the truck, his hands shaking as he loads the pistol and screws the silencer onto the muzzle. He’s going now, before morning shift people come and the FBI shows up with their full posse. 

He pulls into the hospital parking lot, parking close to the door. The FBI van is gone, likely thinking a full escort at two in the morning isn’t necessary. Especially not with Hannibal being as bad off as he is.

They didn’t assume he’d have any help.

He tucks the gun into the waistband of his pants, behind his black peacoat, and climbs out of the truck.

He walks in with no problem. There’s no one in the lobby to greet him, and no one around to see him. He takes the elevator to the fourth floor, heading towards the ICU. 

The FBI officer is the same one that was there the other day, and he looks up at Will, surprised to see him. “Jack need you for something?”

“Yeah,” Will says. “He’s got a few questions, I guess.”

“He didn’t tell me you were coming. Let me just get in touch with him, okay?”

Will nods as he turns to pick up the phone on the wall, and Will takes the gun and shoots him in the head.

He stares as the body slumps, and he leans forward to take the lanyard from the clip on his pocket as well as his handcuffs.

He tucks the gun in his coat pocket, walking into the unit. It’s deathly quiet, this time of night. There are two nurses, one of which being Amy, sitting at the nurse’s station. Amy looks up, her face registering his presence, and she shakes her head at him. She knows why he’s here, and he walks over to the nurse’s station calmly. “I need you both to get away from the phones,” he says softly, taking the gun from his coat. “I won’t hurt you, but you need to stand over there.” He gestures to the wall where there is a railing to aid people in walking.

Amy and the other nurse are afraid, and he gestures again. “Go,” he says, putting an urgency in his tone. 

They walk over quickly, and he handcuffs one nurse to the railing. “Stay quiet, or you’re dead. Do you understand?”

She nods, a few tears pouring down her face as she presses herself to the wall, as far away from him as she can manage.

“I need your help,” he says, turning to Amy. 

She walks with him robotically as they head down the hall, the second FBI officer slumped in the seat as he sleeps. He presses the muzzle of the gun to his head and pulls the trigger. 

Amy jumps, making a small noise in the back of her throat as the officer falls off the chair. “Get that wheelchair, please.” Will bends down to pull the small keychain from the dead officer’s belt.

Amy goes to the wheelchair, her hands shaking as she brings it over to him. “He’s going to need antibiotics, Will. He needs medical care, right now.”

“He’s got me, and I’m all he needs, thanks,” Will says quietly as he walks into Hannibal’s room.

The light behind the bed is on, and Hannibal is asleep. Will walks to the bed, touching his hand, and his eyes blink open tiredly. “Will,” he says softly.

Will leans forward, pressing a kiss to Hannibal’s temple. “It’s time to go, darlin’.” He unlocks the cuffs on Hannibal’s wrists and ankles, tossing them from the bed.

Hannibal nods, sitting up slowly. Amy comes to aid him, and Will is grateful for her existence. 

She unhooks his IV’s, then gives him a hand to get into the wheelchair. “He’s getting Gentamycin every eight hours. His last dose was at ten.”

“Thank you,” Will says softly. He picks up the handcuffs on the FBI agents’ belt, looking to her expectantly. 

“I have other patients that might need me, Will. Please.”

“I have Hannibal that needs me. I can’t have you calling someone the moment we’re out the door.”

“Will,” she begs, and he handcuffs her to the handrail against the wall. 

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “Someone will be along soon, I’m sure. Thanks for everything, Amy.”

He turns and grabs the wheelchair, jogging down the corridor towards the elevators. Hannibal is noticing all the dead FBI guards, and he turns his head to look up at Will, a note of pride on his face. “I didn’t think you’d manage it,” he says with a chuckle.

Will pulls him into the elevator, tisking at him as he presses the button for the ground floor. “I’ve always liked surprising you.”

Hannibal reaches over his shoulder and touches Will’s hand that’s resting on the handle of the wheelchair, and Will slides their fingers together on his shoulder. “I’ve got clothes for you on the boat,” he says softly. “Until then, you’ll be cold.”

“I’ve been colder, Will.”

The elevator doors open, and Will jogs out the door, heading to the truck. He helps Hannibal stand, and he pulls his peacoat from his body and wraps it around Hannibal’s shoulders, grimacing at Hannibal’s bare feet against the icy sidewalk. “I forgot shoes, fuck.”

“It’s fine. Put the heat on in the truck. I’ll live.”

He helps Hannibal into the cab, closing the door behind him. 

He climbs into the driver’s seat and peels out of the parking lot. 

Hannibal slumps into the passenger seat, his face sallow as he regards Will. “Drive slowly, don’t draw attention to yourself at this hour.”

“You’d know, right?” Will laughs, but the sound is hollow with the anxiety he feels mounting inside of him.

“Yes,” Hannibal agrees with a grin. “I would.”

“Don’t let me forget, I’ve got antibiotics in the back. I don’t want to leave them there because I’m an idiot.”

“Will,” Hannibal sighs, reaching across the console. Will reaches out and laces their fingers together, tugging his hand to his mouth to press a kiss to his knuckles. “You were magnificent.”

“I killed a guy that was sleeping,” Will says with a grimace. “I’m an asshole.”

“Would you rather have fought him off? Been injured so neither of us could get away? You did what you had to do. I’m… grateful.”

“We haven’t gotten away, yet,” Will says softly. “I’m working on it, though.”

The drive to the marina is uneventful, and he pulls in, getting the truck as close to the dock as he can manage. “You’ll have to walk a bit.”

“I’ve been walking, it’s no problem.”

Will gets out of the truck, coming around the side to open the passenger door, helping Hannibal get his footing as he climbs out. “Let me grab the medications,” he says softly, reaching into the backseat for the backpack he has there. He slings it over his shoulder and helps Hannibal down the dock. 

His pace is actually good for someone who’d almost died a few times during the week. They get to the boat, and Will sighs. “I have no idea how we’re getting you in there.”

“Carefully,” Hannibal chuckles. 

Will climbs in, tugging the boat closer to the dock so it rests snugly against the bumpers on the boat. Hannibal braces on the edge, putting one foot over slowly, and then the other. His face is ashen as he does, but he makes it into the boat without an issue. 

“Should I move the truck, do you think?” Will asks as he helps Hannibal below deck.

“Fuck the truck, Will,” Hannibal grits out. 

Will laughs as he takes his coat off of Hannibal’s shoulders, easing him into the bed and tucking the sheets and blankets up around him. “Rest, okay? I’ll be back at six am on the dot to med you up.”

Hannibal sighs into the blankets. “Is there heat in this boat?”

“I’ll put the electric heater on for a bit, okay? Where should I go? Do you have a house somewhere that people don’t know about?”

“Cuba,” Hannibal says softly. “Havana. I have a home in Miramar, it’s very private.”

“Of course you do,” Will laughs. “Okay, we’re headed south, then.”

Will goes above deck, unmooring the boat and kicking the motor on. There are only a few boats out at this time of night, but no one’s interested in them. They leave the marina without incident.

Out in the Chesapeake Bay, Will feels lighter. There’s no reason why they won’t make it, now, and the weight of all his anxieties lessens with every hour he puts between them and Baltimore. He’d killed two men. Two innocent men, at that. They had families, most likely. People who would mourn them, people who loved them.

Will had family, too. Hannibal was all that mattered to him. He would do whatever he needed to do in order to keep him by his side.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you're wondering, 'The Song of Achilles' is a must-read if you love these two idiots. Reading this book made me cry and fucking imagine them like warriors of old. It was amazing, and I'll recommend it until I'm no longer breathing.

_“Our mouths opened under each other, and the warmth of his sweetened throat poured into mine. I could not think, could not do anything but drink him in, each breath as it came, the soft movements of his lips. It was a miracle.”  
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles_

He goes below deck at six am, taking the bottle of antibiotics and a bottled water to the bed to shake Hannibal awake. “Hey,” he says softly. “Medication time, Hannibal.”

Hannibal blinks awake, licking sleep from his lips. “Is it really already six?”

“It is,” Will says with a smile. “I don’t know the dosage, you’ll have to help me, here.”

He hands Hannibal the bottle, who reads it quickly. “I need two of those, every eight hours.”

Will nods, shaking two out and handing them to Hannibal, who sits up a bit to swallow them with some water. “Are you hungry?” 

“A few scrambled eggs would be wonderful,” Hannibal admits quietly.

“Coming right up,” Will smiles. “Do… do you need to use the bathroom?” Hannibal nods, and it looks like he’d rather pull his own teeth out than admit it. “You need to tell me when you do. I’m here for you. I am here to take care of you. Okay?”

Will helps him from the bed, standing close as he walks to the bathroom door. “I’ve got it from here, Will. Don’t worry.”

Will nods as Hannibal closes the bathroom door, and he heads to the kitchen area to get the cooking gear and eggs out and start a pot of coffee.

Hannibal emerges a few minutes later, his face wet, as he clearly washed it in the bathroom sink. Will goes to help him, but Hannibal holds his hand up in a gesture that says he’s got it.

Will watches as he sinks carefully back into the bed, stuffing pillows behind his back so he can sit up. 

His eyes are on Will as he whisks eggs and pours them in a pan on the small stove. “Don’t bitch if there’s shells in here, please.”

“I wouldn’t dream of bitching, Will.”

“I took some pain meds from the shelter, too. Do you need them?”

“I think so,” Hannibal admits softly. “After I eat, I’ll take some. You need rest, too.”

“I’ll sleep tonight,” Will promises. “I want as many miles as possible between us and them. The wind is on our side, right now. Hardly using any gas, and I want to take advantage of it.”

Will plates their eggs, pouring coffee into mugs and carrying it all to the bed. Hannibal takes his plate and his mug, setting his coffee on the end table by the bed as Will sits to the side of his hip. “These are some boring eggs, Doctor Lecter. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you later.”

Hannibal grins as he takes delicate bites of his eggs. “It’s perfect. Thank you, Will.”

Will scoffs his eggs, and Hannibal makes a face as he shovels them in. “I’m sorry,” Will laughs, his mouth full. “I am starving.”

He finishes embarrassingly fast, and he’s considering making more as he sips his coffee. He takes his plate to the sink, deciding he’d be okay till lunch once his food gets to his stomach. “Your color looks better today,” Will says as he sits back to the side of Hannibal’s hip, tugging the backpack full of medication into his lap.

“I feel better, as well,” Hannibal admits as he finishes his eggs. Will hands him the backpack, letting him rummage for his own pain meds as he takes his plate to the sink. 

Hannibal settles on a bottle, taking two out and downing them with his coffee. “Don’t be alarmed if I sleep too soundly. You can wake me at two for my next round.”

“I’ll check in down here every hour, just in case you need me.” Will promises him, twining their fingers in Hannibal’s lap.

Hannibal looks exhausted, but his eyes are bright as they look at Will. The spark in them had been missing, and Will is thrilled to see it return. “Maybe tonight you could help me with a shower? I would appreciate it immensely.”

“Of course,” Will says quickly. “Should you, though? With your wounds?”

“I should have asked you to get an antiseptic wash, but it should be fine.”

“Ah,” Will says with a smirk, tugging a duffle bag over from the side of the bed. “Ask and you shall receive.” He pulls out a few bottles of surgical scrub, and Hannibal chuckles. 

“You’re an angel, Will.”

“Aren’t I?” Will teases, leaning forward to press his lips to Hannibal’s own. Hannibal pulls away, his mouth tight. “What?” Will asks, his stomach dropping.

“I haven’t brushed my teeth in days, and it’s appalling.”

“I don’t care about that,” Will says with a chuckle. “Please?”

Hannibal groans as Will leans in, and Will grins as he feels Hannibal cave and press his lips to Will’s own. He won’t let Will deepen it, but Will is content to let their lips glide together for now.

He pulls away, and Hannibal’s face is adoring as he looks at Will. “Get some rest, okay? I’ll be back down again shortly if you need me.”

Hannibal nods, and Will helps him settle into the bed, pulling the blankets up around him. Hannibal’s eyes are closed almost as soon as his head hits the pillows, and Will watches him for a few moments, reveling in the simple fact that he’s breathing.

He pours himself another coffee as he goes above deck, adjusting the sails and letting the boat glide them south.

He sails for seven hours, going below deck occasionally to check if Hannibal was still asleep, which he was. He anchors somewhere off the coast of North Carolina, going below deck to start lunch.

Will knows Hannibal needs lean proteins right now, so he wraps a few salmon filets in foil with lemon and olive oil and gets them in the oven. He sautés some zucchini and summer squash with a bit of olive oil and garlic, a favorite of his when he was a kid.

He wakes Hannibal at two with a decent lunch on a plate and two pills in his hand. Hannibal blinks groggily at him, his nose sniffing the air. “That smells good,” he says weakly, his throat roughened with sleep.

“It should be edible, I think,” Will chuckles.

Hannibal sits up slowly, taking the pills from his hand and swallowing them with his bottled water, before taking the plate. He eats slowly, and Will grins as he realizes Hannibal is savoring it. “I guess it’s okay,” Will laughs.

“It’s very simple, but far better than anything I’ve had in years,” he admits.

“Well, I’m flattered,” Will laughs. They eat in companionable silence, each clearing their plates. “Are you in any pain?” Will asks, and Hannibal nods. 

“I’d like to try a shower, but maybe later on. I’ll take one pain pill, for now.” He pops the cover and pulls one out, downing it with his water bottle. 

He watches Will clean up, his lip tucked between his teeth and an unreadable expression on his face. “What is it? Why do you look like that right now?”

“I hate being useless,” Hannibal admits softly. “I despise being a burden to you.”

Will wipes the sink down as he finishes washing the dishes, hanging the dish towel from the hook. He settles himself down beside Hannibal, pulling his hands into his lap and squeezing them gently. “You’re not a burden,” Will whispers, his eyes holding Hannibal’s own. “I feel like I’ve been in a coma these last three years. Here, but not living. Breathing, but still suffocating. Having you with me again, is like coming up for fresh air. I don’t care that you’re wounded. I wouldn’t care if you needed me like this for the rest of my fucking life. I’m content just having you in front of me.”

“When did you become so romantic?” Hannibal asks, his tone is teasing, but there’s a sheen on his eyes that suggests he’s moved by Will’s sentiment.

“When I watched you die twice,” Will says softly, his voice breaking. “If I wouldn’t have been able to bring you back, I was resolved to wade back into the water and follow you wherever you went.”

“Will,” Hannibal breathes disapprovingly. “No matter what happens to me, you must live. I won’t forgive you for anything less than that.”

“You’d forgive me anything,” Will says, repeating Hannibal’s words to him from a few days earlier. 

Hannibal smiles, pressing a kiss to Will’s palm. “I would forgive you anything, yes.”

“Don’t feel too bad about making me cook for you, by the way. Once you’re better, I’m completely alright with you cooking for the rest of my life. You can take care of me as much as you want, okay?”

“I look forward to it,” Hannibal admits. 

“You want to shower now, or later?”

Hannibal sighs, settling into the pillows. “I think I’ll rest a bit. Wake me when you come below deck, and I’ll shower then.”

“Alright,” Will agrees, leaning forward to press a kiss to Hannibal’s temple. “I’ll be back soon.”

Will goes back up above deck and sails for a few more hours, before the wind settles down. He’s exhausted when he decides that they’ve gone far enough for tonight, and he anchors where they are. 

It’s just after eight when he goes below deck, using the bathroom briefly before waking Hannibal. “Hey,” he says gently. “You want to shower?”

Hannibal stretches, his mouth twisted in a grimace. “Yes, please. I feel abhorrent. I can smell myself in my sleep.”

Will laughs, helping Hannibal to sit up in bed. “The shower is pretty tight, but I don’t give a shit about the floors if you want to just leave the door open.”

“Once I’m in the shower, I can manage, Will.”

Will bites his lip, staring at Hannibal meaningfully. “If you fall down because you’re an arrogant ass, I’ll be pretty mad.”

“I’m not going to fall down, for Christ’s sake.”

“Rude,” Will admonishes, earning himself a chuckle from the older man as he helps him to the bathroom. 

“I can take care of myself, getting in. The johnnie isn’t difficult to remove. I’ll need help dressing in real clothes, afterwards.”

“I can do that,” Will promises him. Will opens the bathroom door, setting the antiseptic scrub on the sink, along with bar soap and shampoo. Hannibal watches him as he unwraps a toothbrush, and sets it on the counter with a tube of toothpaste. “Towels are behind the door. What am I forgetting?” Will asks him.

“Nothing, Will. Thank you.”

“I’ll pick you out some pajamas once you’re in there.”

Will watches him as he pulls the johnnie off his shoulders, and he’s aware that Hannibal knows he’s looking. Even while convalescing, he’s beautiful. He’s lost weight, but of course, he still has muscles that are corded in his shoulders. The wound in his lower back is covered with a bandage, and Will reaches forward and helps him remove the medical tape from his skin, peeling it back.

The wound looks good, under the gauze. It’s stitched up cleanly, and the skin isn’t red or infected. It’s just skin, held together with stitches.

The brand between his shoulder blades has healed well, but the sight of it incites a desire in Will to shield and protect, to maim and destroy. 

Hannibal’s back is turned to him as he peels the tape from his stomach, wincing as some tugs his chest hair. Will steps forward and presses a kiss to Hannibal’s shoulder, allowing his lips to linger and drag against the soft skin there. His fingertips brush against the brand, and he feels Hannibal stiffen under his fingers. “Will,” he breathes. 

“I’m not starting anything,” he drawls, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck. The skin here is soft too, and he lets his lips linger for a moment, inhaling the scent of Hannibal’s hair against his nose. He lets his mouth roam down a bit, kissing the brand between his shoulder blades reverently. “I just want to put my mouth on you for a minute, okay?”

“The definition of starting something is you putting your mouth against my skin,” Hannibal chuckles. 

“Let me see your stomach wound,” he pleads.

Hannibal sighs as he turns around, shielding his nudity with his palm. His ribs are protruding from his skin a bit, and Will is resolved to fatten him up. The wound on his stomach looks much the same as the one on his back, and Will breathes a sigh of relief. “Good,” he whispers, his fingers mindlessly reaching out to touch the soft skin of Hannibal’s hip. “Good.”

Hannibal’s mouth is set in a line, and he turns his body from Will’s own again. “I’ll call if I need you.”

Will steps out of the bathroom hesitantly, his erection pressing annoyingly into his pants. Hannibal was in absolutely no place to be dealing with his ridiculous urges, and he sighs as he hears the water kick on, and Hannibal close the door of the shower behind him.

The idea that Hannibal is wet and naked less than three feet away from him doesn’t help him, so he busies himself with getting a pair of pajama pants and a clean tee shirt for Hannibal to wear once he’s out.

He hears the water turn off some time later, and then the sink faucet is running as Hannibal brushes his teeth. The bathroom door opens in a cloud of steam, and the scent of clean skin assaults Will’s senses. Will leans forward, holding Hannibal’s pants open as he steps one leg in, his hand braced on Will’s shoulder as he puts the other one in. Will slides them up his thighs, his face turning discretely as he shifts them over his hips. “I’m going to wash my hands, then I’ll help you put fresh gauze.”

Hannibal nods, sitting on the edge of the bed looking exhausted. 

Will washes his hands with some surgical scrub, cleaning them for probably longer than necessary before coming back to Hannibal’s side. Hannibal has unpacked some fresh gauze and surgical tape, laying everything out helpfully.

“Should there be an antibiotic ointment, or?”

“Just the gauze should be fine.”

Hannibal opens the package, and Will takes it out with clean hands, holding it to Hannibal’s abdomen gently as Hannibal gives him tape. “You know I could have handled this myself,” he teases.

Will grins, “I like having my hands on you.”

“I waited because I enjoy your hands on me, too,” Hannibal admits almost shyly.

Will shifts back as Hannibal opens another package of clean gauze, which Will takes out and holds against the wound on his back. Hannibal peels another few strips of tape, and Will secures the gauze to his back gently.

“Like new,” Will says with a grin. “Are you hungry?”

“I’m not, actually. I’m very tired, though.” 

Will thinks about his protruding ribs and decides to press the issue. “What about cheese and crackers? I got some sharp cheddar.”

“No, Will. I… I’m going to sleep, I think.”

Will nods, taking the clean tee shirt and fluffing it, holding it open as Hannibal laughs and pulls his arms and head through the holes. 

“Rest, then. I’m going to take a shower too.”

Hannibal is already settling into the mattress, a sigh escaping his lips as he does. “I feel much better, right now.”

“Good,” Will grins. “It’ll be time for your meds when I get out, I’ll wake you up, okay?”

Hannibal nods weakly, his eyes already closed. 

Will gathers clean pajamas, and heads into the bathroom as quietly as he can manage. The room still smells like Hannibal, clean skin and minty toothpaste. He washes up in the shower, debating if he should… relieve some tension. His cock is aching, and Hannibal doesn’t need him pressing against him like a teenager in the night. 

He’s throbbing just at the thought of it, and he wraps his fingers around his cock with a sigh. He works himself quickly, thinking of the feel of Hannibal’s shoulder against his lips, the smooth skin of his hip under his fingers. It only takes a few, embarrassingly short, moments and he’s coming down the drain, biting his lip to keep from making a sound.

He presses his face to the cool plastic siding of the shower, taking a minute to gather himself before turning the water off. He brushes his teeth, and changes into a clean pair of pajama pants and a tee shirt. When he emerges from the bathroom, Hannibal is looking at him from the bed with an expression he hasn’t seen before. “Uh,” Will says inelegantly. “Have you been… awake long?”

Hannibal keeps watching him, his eyes dark. “What were you thinking about in the shower, Will?”

Will blushes to his hairline, his eyes darting away. “Washing up,” he says shyly, snatching a bottled water from the fridge and Hannibal’s pills from the counter. 

“What else?” he asks, his voice dark and silken with something Will doesn’t want to acknowledge. Will wonders how the fuck he knows, and a part of him realizes… he must have smelled it. Will is mortified by the thought.

“You,” he says quietly, sitting on the other side of the bed and sliding into the sheets. Hannibal turns slowly, adjusting himself on the mattress to get comfortable as he looks at Will, who hands him the water and pill bottle. 

Hannibal takes his pills with a gulp of water, setting them both on the end table carefully, then turning back to Will. “Me,” he says softly. “What about me?”

Will swallows, his eyes looking up at the ceiling. “Your skin. The feel of your shoulder under my lips. I’m sorry, Hannibal.”

He risks a glance at Hannibal, whose eyes are curious as they regard Will. “Even feeble like this, you still manage to find me desirable?”

“Covered in blood, wounded, in a gaudy suit, in a prison jumpsuit, cooking with your shirtsleeves rolled up; I’ve desired you for a while. Having you here now, skin bared to me, body open to my affections, it feels like… It feels too good to be true. I never meant for you to know. I forget about your super-human sense of smell. I’m sorry if I made you… uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable,” Hannibal chuckles. “I ache to be recovered, so I can show you just how comfortable I feel with you being aroused, Will. Particularly, knowing that it’s me you are thinking of when you are.”

Will makes a noise in the back of his throat, tugging his body across the bed to hover over Hannibal, their faces only inches apart. “You brushed your teeth, right?”

Hannibal chuckles, lacing his fingers through his damp curls. “I did.”

“You have no excuse to stop me, then,” he whispers as he slants his mouth over Hannibal’s own, sliding his tongue into his mouth gently. Hannibal moans, tipping his head and cradling Will’s face in his hands, their lips dragging and their tongues tasting each other. The feeling is euphoric, the charge between them electric as their lips caress one another’s, and their tongues learn each other’s flavor. 

His tongue is like silk as it glides against his. Will delights in the foreign feeling of rough stubble against his face and hot, soft, lips sliding against his. Hannibal’s fingers are touching his face softly, gently tracing the shape of his jaw, and pressing tenderly into his hair. He’s being savored like a fine wine, and Will deepens the kiss, teeth clicking harshly as he does. Hannibal pulls away to tug gently on Will’s bottom lip with his teeth, flicking his tongue against the flesh. 

Will is embarrassed when he realizes his dick is interested in what’s going on, even after his shower, and Hannibal chuckles as he scents the air. 

Hannibal trails his mouth down Will’s throat, and Will tips his head to allow soft lips and tongue to trail down the side of his neck, suckling a bruise just under his ear. “You are so beautiful, Will,” he praises, gliding his mouth back up to slant over Will’s again. 

Will moans into his mouth, rolling his hips gently against the mattress, and Hannibal pulls away. “I apologize for starting something I can’t finish,” he says quietly, licking the taste of Will from his lips.

“Don’t apologize,” Will whispers, tucking his head against Hannibal’s chest. “I should be apologizing to you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Is your shoulder healing well?” Hannibal asks out of nowhere.

“It is,” Will says softly, pressing a kiss to his chest. “It hurts sometimes, but it’s not bad.”

“Your face was stitched by an imbecile. They allowed the nerve endings to die. Does your cheek hurt, Will?”

Will blushes, pressing the mangled flesh into Hannibal’s chest embarrassingly. “It doesn’t hurt at all, actually. I think the nerves are mostly shot.”

“Yes,” Hannibal agrees, something tight in his voice that makes Will chew his bottom lip.

“Is it… is it very ugly?” Will asks, his voice breaking. 

Hannibal tips his face up, pressing their mouths together briefly. “You are magnificent. I’m merely regretful that I couldn’t take care of it for you. You’ll have a scar and nerve damage for life, now. I was only worried because sometimes nerve damage presents itself as pain.”

“There’s no pain,” Will says quietly. “We have matching scars on our faces, now. Mine is… well, worse, obviously, but still,” Will chuckles, tracing his finger over the scar on Hannibal’s cheekbone from Jack all those years ago.

“This pleases you?” Hannibal asks him, settling against the pillow with a sigh.

“I don’t know if pleases is the right word, more like an observation,” Will says, tucking himself against Hannibal’s side as the older man wraps his arm around his shoulders. “You should sleep. I should… maybe not be stuck to you like this. You need your rest.”

“You’ll stay right where you are,” Hannibal sighs while his fingertips trace the edge of Will’s tee shirt over his bicep. “I want you right under my nose where I can breathe you in all night.”

“If I get uncomfortable, just shove me. I’ll probably sleep through it.”

Hannibal presses a kiss to his hair, his breathing growing deep as he drifts off. Will presses his lips over his heart again, resting his head against his chest. He listens to the beat of it as he drifts off to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

_“We were like gods at the dawning of the world, and our joy was so bright we could see nothing else but the other.”  
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles_

“Will,” Hannibal calls out, his fingers digging painfully into Will’s shoulder. Will wakes up in the middle of the night, bleary eyed but instantly alert. Was there someone on the boat? Was Hannibal sick? He sits up, his face wet from the sweat coming from Hannibal’s body as the older man thrashes in his sleep.

It takes Will a minute to realize Hannibal is having a nightmare. His fingers are clenched in the bedsheets, his mouth a grim line as he pants against the mattress. “Hannibal,” Will calls out, pressing his fingers into his shoulder and shaking him gently. “Hannibal, you’re alright. Wake up, come on.”

Hannibal’s eyes snap open, a gasp tearing from his throat as tears track from the corners of his eyes, down the side of his face. “Will,” he says desperately. “You’re here, you’re still here.”

Will’s heart clenches in his chest as he realizes what Hannibal is having a nightmare about. “I’m right here,” he says softly, resting his palm against Hannibal’s chest. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere without you, ever again. Okay? I don’t even think death could keep me from you.”

Hannibal’s breath stutters in his chest, and he grasps the side of Will’s face, dragging him down for a gentle kiss, before crushing Will to his body in a half-hug. “It’s okay,” Will soothes, pressing kisses to Hannibal’s throat, then his cheek. “I’m here, and I love you. I’ll be right here when you wake up, okay?”

Hannibal keeps his arm around him, his breathing evening out, as he drifts off. Will has a hard time falling back to sleep after that. He’s never imagined that Hannibal was even capable of having a nightmare, let alone worrying that Will would leave him in his sleep. 

It's his own fault, he reasons. He retreats emotionally every time Hannibal puts his trust in him. Will is a flight risk, physically and emotionally. It doesn't matter that he is invested now. Hannibal has thought Will was invested time and time again, only to be let down and betrayed every opportunity Will had. 

Will’s reasons in the past weren’t good ones. He was afraid. Terrified to admit his feelings were more, and that the darkness in him wasn’t anyone else’s but his own. He’s loved Hannibal for so long he’s not even sure when it started. Hannibal snuck in and under his defenses, weaving into his life with a determined assuredness, worming into his heart so gradually that Will didn’t even realize he was there for a long time. 

Attraction for another person is… difficult for Will. There is always a lingering doubt, wondering how much of the attraction he feels is in fact the other person’s interest in him that he is picking up. He knew Hannibal desired him all those years ago. He felt the older man’s eyes on him as he paced his office or stood to his side. Of course, Will had noticed that Hannibal was an attractive man. The desire, however, was murky. How much of it was his own? How much of it was a reflection of Hannibal’s feelings towards him? What did it suggest that Will had never noticed another man, before him?

It pains him to know that it took being married to someone else and aching for Hannibal for three years to figure it out. He’d spend the rest of his life showing Hannibal how much he loves him. Will would make sure he’d be as comfortable in Will’s love for him as his own skin. 

He lays awake for a long time, feeling guilty and heartbroken, his cheek pressing against Hannibal’s heart. This deadly, dangerous, beautiful, man is in ruins over Will, and he cannot understand how he could possibly hold sway over such a creature. He’d never bring it up, as he never wants Hannibal to question why he loves Will, either. He doesn't want Hannibal to realize that he shouldn’t, that there was nothing worth having.

He somehow manages a few hours of sleep, waking just before five in the morning. His body is sore from staying in the same position against Hannibal’s side all night, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. 

He climbs from the bed quietly, using the bathroom and then starting the coffee pot. Hannibal’s eyes blink open, a sleepy, contented noise escaping his throat as he stretches gently. “Why are you already awake?” Hannibal asks, his voice gruff with sleep.

Will pours them both a cup of coffee, taking Hannibal’s to him as he sits up in bed. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“You need your rest, Will,” he says softly, sipping his coffee. He looks so sleep rumpled and sweet, and Will aches just looking at him. 

“You had a nightmare last night,” Will confesses. “Some of the things you said…” 

Hannibal’s face is vulnerable as he looks away, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. “Was I cruel to you?”

“What? No, not cruel,” Will says softly. “Just… you called out for me. You were… relieved I was here when you woke up. That I was still here, as though I might not be.”

Hannibal makes a noise in his throat, busying himself with another sip of his coffee. He’s silent for so long that Will thinks the matter is dropped when Hannibal speaks. “I worry when your conscience will flog you for the things you’ve done to get here. I think about your wife and stepson, wondering when the pull of an easy life will tug at your seams, tearing you apart. I wonder when you’ll blame me for what you’ve done, and you’ll… leave me again.”

“I’ll never leave you again. Not ever, Hannibal,” Will promises him while covering one of Hannibal’s hands with his own.

“Will you not miss your wife?” Hannibal asks, and the sour note of jealousy tinges his tone, making it mocking.

“Marrying her was a mistake,” Will admits quietly. “We were both… broken. Her husband had died, and the love of my life was gone. We were two broken people that tried to heal together, but the difference was, she didn’t know I was broken. I couldn’t talk about you, not more than I needed to. She thought of you as a monster; a nightmare brought to life. She would bring you up sometimes, so coldly and maliciously that it took all of my resolve not to tell her that I loved you back then, and that I still loved you, now. I think she believed my reluctance to speak of you was because I was afraid of you, but it was because speaking of you would make your absence real. It would have torn me apart. She’s never known me. Not in any way that matters.”

“I’d like to take her apart,” Hannibal admits, his voice soft despite the horror of his words.

“Yes,” Will says in understanding, sipping his coffee. “I’d like to tear Bedelia apart, too.”

“Do you?” Hannibal asks, his eyebrow raising in interest. “Why? I never loved her.”

“You filled my space with her. You cut me from you like a festering limb and sewed her to you instead. Did you fulfill all the duties a husband has to his wife, Hannibal?”

“I thought of it, but no. She knew I was enraptured with you. She could be jealous and cruel about it, sometimes. There was no replacing what I had lost, though.”

“I saw her a few times,” Will admits quietly. “I asked her if you were in love with me.”

“I’m sure my dear Bedelia found a way to avoid answering such a question,” Hannibal grins. 

Will snorts into his coffee, “She was actually very truthful. She basically admitted that you did.”

“Peculiar of her,” Hannibal says, his mouth twisting with disbelief. “She was the one that suggested I forgive you the way I forgave Mischa.”

“She wanted you to eat me?” Will asks disbelievingly. 

Hannibal shrugs, sipping his coffee. “I think she wanted you out of the picture. Either way, what did you say when she told you that I did?”

“I didn’t say anything, because she told me that you did, and then immediately asked if I ached for you. It… was too close for comfort. I stayed quiet.”

“I don’t need to ask you if you ache for me,” Hannibal says, his mouth inching up into a smile.

“I’m still mad that she suggested you eat me, and then you tried to eat me. I’m… not in the mood to ache for you, right now.” 

“We’ve both wronged one another,” Hannibal says eventually. “If we are to succeed in this, we need to forgive. I’ve forgiven you, Will.”

Will sighs, setting his coffee cup down on the end table to smooth his hands over Hannibal’s bare forearms. “I forgive you, too. We are both murderously jealous, clearly. Maybe we shouldn’t be because it’s my fault that we’ve been apart. It’s my fears and anxieties that prevented us from having this sooner.” Will’s eyes welled with tears embarrassingly, and he looks down at his hands over Hannibal’s skin, avoiding eye contact.

“I don’t care what we could have had,” Hannibal says quietly. “Only that I have you, now.”

“You have me, Hannibal,” Will says reassuringly, gripping his strong forearms gently.

Hannibal reaches out and puts his coffee cup to the side, wrapping his fingers around Will’s wrists and tugging him further up the bed. Hannibal’s arms come around his waist as their mouths meet gently, Will’s own hands sliding over Hannibal’s chest and shoulders. Will moans into his mouth as Hannibal presses his fingers into the flesh of his lower back, tugging him against his body. Will’s fingers slide up Hannibal’s chest, touching his neck and then his jaw, which was almost covered in a beard at this point. 

He pulls away eventually, looking at Hannibal with darkened eyes. “We have to stop starting what we can’t finish,” Will laughs, adjusting himself discretely as his pants were feeling too tight.

“I’ve never been injured like this,” Hannibal admits eventually. “I crave you. I ache to feel you against my skin, and yet… nothing. I want it more than anything in this world, and I can’t… It’s not…”

Will shushes him with his mouth, sliding his fingers into his hair before pulling away. “It’s the pain medicine,” Will says softly. “When I had my stomach wound… uh, I couldn’t get up for like a month. It was so frustrating, because I wanted to touch myself, but it never went anywhere. It’s nothing to worry about. Once you’re off the pain meds, you’ll be… uh, up for anything.”

Hannibal is blushing, and it’s the most foreign thing Will has ever seen. “What did you think of, while you were trying to find release?”

“Jesus,” Will feels the heat creeping up his cheeks. “It was fucked up, but I thought about being in your arms while you stabbed me. The scent of you, covered in blood. The feel of your hand against my face.”

“I’m surprised you admitted that to me,” Hannibal muses.

“I want you to know anything you want to know. There won’t be any barriers between us. Not ever again.”

Hannibal notes the time, reaching out for his coffee cup and his pills, taking two of the antibiotic as well as one of the pain pills. “Having that kind of invitation to your mind is more than I ever thought I would have.”

“I have to ask you something, and I want you to not be offended,” Will says hesitantly.

Hannibal’s mouth purses, but he nods his head. “What is it?”

“Are you… uh, pooping?” Will asks while his face turns scarlet. “I only ask because I was really, really, constipated after my intestinal repair. The pain meds made it even worse, and I had an impaction, which, well, resulted in an enema. I just want to know that you’re… okay.”

Hannibal chuckles, leaning forward to press his lips to Will’s cheek. “I’m having bowel movements, but they’ve been… uncomfortable.”

“I got stool softeners,” Will says quickly. “They helped me, after. I figured with a similar injury they’d help you, too.”

Hannibal sucks his teeth, glancing away from Will. “How will you ever find me desirable again, I wonder.”

“Do you still find me desirable, knowing I had a colostomy bag because I couldn’t shit? I bet you do.”

Hannibal grins, rubbing his beard with long fingers. “I do, yes.”

Will reaches out for the duffle bag, taking the bottle of stool softeners out. “Take one and see how it goes. If it doesn’t help, you can have two, but I’d wait and see if one helps.”

Hannibal sighs, taking one and swallowing it with his coffee. “I am mortified, just so you’re aware.”

“I am in love with you, just so you’re aware,” Will says while leaning in to press his lips to Hannibal’s own. Hannibal allows him a moment to deepen the kiss before pulling away, tipping his head back as he does. Will follows his mouth, grinning, to kiss him again. 

Hannibal chuckles, allowing him his affections, as Will tugs at his bottom lip between his teeth, flicking his tongue against the soft flesh, before pulling away. “I’ve got to get moving,” Will sighs. “You want something special for breakfast? Eggs? Pancakes? What do you like?”

“Eggs and toast would be perfect. I can help you,” he offers.

“You can sit there and drink another cup of coffee that I’m going to get you,” Will says, picking up their empty cups and standing from the bed. 

Hannibal’s fingers circle his wrist, and Will turns to him curiously. “Thank you,” he says softly, his eyes holding Will’s meaningfully.

“It’s nothing, Hannibal.”

Will makes breakfast while Hannibal uses the bathroom, and Will tips his head as he hears the shower running, wondering if Hannibal needed help. He doesn’t go to ask, hoping Hannibal would get him if he needed him.

Will is… concerned. The food is done, and he’s been in there a while. “Hannibal?” Will calls, knocking on the door. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be out in a moment,” comes the reply. He can hear the sink running, and he leaves him be. 

Will decides to eat his eggs while they’re hot, and Hannibal steps out from the bathroom with a towel around his waist, his face freshly shaved.

Will gawks at him, reveling in the sight of Hannibal looking so clean and refined, even standing in nothing but a towel. Hannibal goes to his drawer, taking out a clean pair of pajama pants and dropping his towel to pull them on, giving Will a glimpse of his ass as he does. “Do you see something you like, Will?”

“Yes,” Will says immediately, his face tinging pink as he takes a bite of his eggs. “You’re being a tease.”

Hannibal grins as he turns to him, and the arrogance of his smirk is such a relief to see that Will sighs. His arrogance and poise had been missing, much like the spark in his eyes. He thinks briefly of Amy telling him that he’s getting stronger every day, and he’s ecstatic to see it with his own eyes. He settles himself carefully at the table, shirtless, and eats his eggs delicately. “I think I’ve earned the right to a bit of teasing,” he says eventually, taking a sip of his coffee. “You knew what you were doing to me all those years ago, showing up at my office with your haircut and your pressed shirts. You knew, and you teased.”

“I never flaunted my bare ass at you,” Will laughs.

“Regretfully, you did not.”

“You’d like to see me naked,” Will says, and it’s almost a question, with the note of disbelief in his voice.

“You sound surprised,” Hannibal replies with a quirk of his eyebrow.

“It’s just…” Will sighs, setting his coffee cup down. “Why? I’m kind of a small guy, nothing really to see.”

“You’ve never seen yourself clearly,” Hannibal says eventually. “You have no idea what you do to me, when my body is properly functioning.”

“I look forward to finding out, though.”

Hannibal grins at him, licking his lips as he looks down at his breakfast. 

They finish eating, and Hannibal dries the dishes and puts them away in the cabinets before heading back to the bed. His shoulders are slumped, and his eyes are droopy as he settles into the sheets. 

“Should we put new gauze on your stitches?” Will asks.

“They’re mostly healed from the outside,” Hannibal remarks, looking down at the wound on the side of his stomach. “I don’t think it’s necessary.”

“If you’re sure, I’m going to sail for a bit,” Will calls from the doorway. “I’ll come back down in a few hours for your meds at two.”

“Alright,” Hannibal says slowly, his eyes fighting sleep as he watches Will. 

Will smiles at him from the doorway and heads up to the deck. 

The waters are calm, and the wind is good as he pulls anchor and sets the boat in motion. The weather is warmer now that he’s somewhere off the coast of Georgia. It’s hot in the sun, and Will slips his tee shirt off to enjoy the heat and wind on his skin. He’s always loved sailing. The freedom of going wherever you’d like with a minimal amount of cash for gas has always been soothing to him. 

He sails for six hours, and his skin feels a little raw from so much sun all at once. He goes below deck at two on the dot, grinning as he finds Hannibal twisted out from the blankets because it’s gotten warm below deck. He cracks a few windows, airing out the small room with the scent of the ocean breeze before walking over to the shirtless, beautiful, man on the bed. “Hannibal,” he says softly, laughing as the older man groans into his pillow. 

“The breeze feels good,” he says gruffly, voice muffled against the sheets. He blinks his eyes open, quirking a sleepy eyebrow at Will’s naked torso, tinged pink from the sun. 

“It was stuffy down here,” Will says with a hint of apology in his voice. “I should have come down earlier to open some windows for you.”

“It’s fine. Is it two already?”

“You bet, darlin’.” He hands Hannibal a bottled water and his pills, who takes them gratefully. Hannibal sits up, pulling his legs from the bed with a wince, and heads into the bathroom. 

Will takes some time to rummage through the fridge, pulling out some chicken to grill, as well as some pineapple. He seasons them with some Cajun seasoning, setting them on the grill pan on the stove. He dusts the pineapple with some brown sugar and sets the slices on the grill beside the chicken. 

He wasn’t much of a chef, but he could make do with what he had.

He’s almost done cooking when Hannibal emerges, clean-faced and smelling of mint toothpaste. “That smells really good,” he praises as he settles into the seat at the small kitchen table. 

“It’s not much. Don’t get too excited,” Will laughs while he plates the food. 

Hannibal quirks his eyebrow at the chicken and pineapple as it’s set in front of him, but he eats it with a groan. “The heat of the chicken with the sweet of the pineapple is remarkably good.”

“My dad used to make this,” Will tells him, a little smile on his lips. “I always loved it.”

“You don’t speak of him often,” Hannibal remarks while cutting into his chicken. 

“No,” Will admits. “He did his best, but my empathy disorder made it difficult for him to relate to me. He was a stern guy. A hardworking, stern, man, who had a small kid that cried a lot, and had a lot of… feelings. He did his best with me, though.”

“Is he still alive?” 

“Yes,” Will says with a grimace. “By now he knows that his son has killed two FBI officials and escaped with a serial killer. I’m sure he’s proud.”

Hannibal watches him for a few minutes, his expression guarded. “I’m sorry, Will.”

“Don’t be,” Will admonishes. “I don’t regret a single thing that’s brought me here with you.”

Hannibal finishes his lunch, setting his fork down as he licks his lips. “Thank you. For helping me, for taking care of me, for all of it. It’s more than I’ve ever imagined.”

"It's nothing, Hannibal," Will blushes, averting his eyes towards the door that leads above deck. “Would you like to come above deck? A little sun and fresh air might be good for you.”

Hannibal grins, nodding eagerly. “I would very much like that.”

They ditch their plates in the sink to soak and Will goes up the stairs behind him, just in case he needs the help, but he doesn’t. 

Hannibal’s expression as he stands in the sun on the deck is… blissful. His eyes are closed as he settles on the vinyl bench to the side of the banister, face tipped up towards the sun as he greedily inhales the ocean air. He hadn’t bothered with a shirt before he came up, and the sun somehow manages to revive his pale skin, making it look golden in the afternoon light. His hair ruffles in the wind, and Will has never seen him more beautiful.

Will drops the sail, standing at the cockpit to navigate the waters. His eyes keep looking to Hannibal, though, who is stretched out languidly against the bench, his long arms draping against the back of it as he basks. 

“You’re beautiful,” Will says softly, and Hannibal squints through a smirk as he regards Will, preening a bit with the attention.

“As are you,” he replies, his eyes holding Will’s own before sliding down his torso appreciatively. 

Hannibal manages to stay outside for the better part of two hours, before slumping forward a bit and announcing he had to sleep. Will goes below deck with him, helping him into the bed, even though Hannibal could have managed on his own. “Wake me up when you come below deck, please.”

“Sure,” Will replies, leaning forward and pressing his lips gently against Hannibal’s own. Hannibal surprises him by lacing his fingers through the hair at the back of his head, deepening the kiss briefly before pulling away. Will stays hunched over him, his eyes dark, as he licks the taste of Hannibal from his lips. Hannibal chuckles, trailing his thumb over Will’s bottom lip reverently. “Go sail, I’ll be right here when you come back.”

The comment doesn’t motivate Will to leave, but he does so, taking a tee shirt with him as he goes. He’s going to have the mother of all sunburns as it is.

He goes above deck and sails for a few hours, breathing in the salt of the air and taking in the pinks and oranges of the sunset. He can’t wait for Hannibal to be recovered enough to come up and enjoy a sunset with him, or watch the stars. He was a long way off from that, yet. 

Will sighed as he tipped his head towards the wind. They had all the time in the world.


	6. Chapter 6

_“We reached for each other, and I thought of how many nights I had lain awake loving him in silence.”  
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles_

_  
___  
  


__

__Will sails for a few hours until the sunlight is almost well and gone before dropping anchor and heading below deck. He takes a quick shower, trying to be quiet about it so as not to wake Hannibal. He wraps the towel around his waist at the sink, debating over whether he wanted to shave or not. He settles on trimming his beard with the trimmers, sharpening the edges of his beard with a razor to make it neat. His trimmed beard does nothing to hide the scarring on his face, but it doesn’t bother him as much as it could have. Hannibal doesn’t mind it, and there’s no one else to see it._ _

__He fidgets at the sink after cleaning up, wondering if he could be as bold as Hannibal was earlier in the day. He groans to himself, gripping his towel with white knuckles, as he steps out of the bathroom._ _

__Hannibal’s eyes blink awake with the noise, his head lifting from the pillow as he notices Will’s state of undress. Will straightens his spine, walking over to the dresser where he drops his towel directly in Hannibal’s line of sight. He fluffs a pair of sleep shorts while a blush stains his cheeks. “Wait,” Hannibal says quietly, sitting up on the side of the bed._ _

__Will blushes to his hairline as he debates what to do. He’s fucking naked, and Hannibal is clearly asking for a show, and he’s so self-conscious he could kick himself for starting this in the first place._ _

__Will turns his upper body, glancing back at Hannibal with a raised eyebrow. “Yes?”_ _

__“Let me see you, please,” Hannibal asks, his voice dark and gravelly._ _

__Will sighs, turning his body while trying not to fidget too much. He’s half-hard, much to his mortification, and Hannibal’s eyes feel like a physical caress as they glide over his skin. “Come here, please,” he says softly._ _

__Will swallows, the action bobbing his Adam’s apple roughly, and Hannibal watches it with rapt fascination. He steps forward, only three steps, and his knees brush Hannibal’s on the side of the bed. Hannibal reaches out, trailing his fingertips against Will’s sides, sliding them gently against his abdomen and his scar, leaning forward to kiss it softly. His mouth is open as he kisses the marred flesh, his tongue tasting the skin there reverently. His hands slide over his hip bones, trailing down the curve of his ass, cupping the back of his thighs. His touch is feather light, just his fingertips, but it feels like he’s setting trails of fire across Will’s skin._ _

__“You look so much younger than your years,” he whispers with awe in his voice. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”_ _

__Will shudders at the admission, giving into the urge to touch Hannibal. He presses his fingers into his hair, tipping his face up to press his thumbs against the arch of his cheekbones. Hannibal is looking up at him as his hand comes from behind his thigh, trailing around his hip, before wrapping his long fingers around his throbbing length._ _

__Will hisses while his fingers tighten in Hannibal’s hair marginally and his breathing becomes harsh. Hannibal presses his thumb to the head, smearing the precum there. “You don’t have to do this. Fuck, you should be resting,” Will says desperately._ _

__Hannibal grins up at him, pulling his thumb into his mouth and licking the taste of Will from the pad. Will’s breath stutters out at the sight of it, his cock aching for his fingers again._ _

__“I don’t have to do anything, you’re right,” Hannibal replies softly, his fingers wrapping around him again, his grip firmer this time as he gives him a few small strokes. Will groans through it, rocking his hips gently into his grip. “I want to, though. I can rest afterwards.”_ _

__Hannibal watches him as he leans forward, licking gently at the slit of his cock. Will’s fingers slide from his hair to the nape of his neck, holding the soft skin there delicately. His tongue is silken as it glides over the head, swirling softly. He wraps his lips around the head of Will's cock, suckling him while pulling a moan from Will's throat. Hannibal keeps the suction firm while his tongue flicks the head softly. “Fuck,” Will sighs, thrusting his hips minutely. It’s too much and not enough, and Will’s toes are curling against the rug as he tries not to thrust into the heat to relieve the tension._ _

__Hannibal lets up on the suction, gliding his lips down over the length of him while his tongue presses up against the underside of his cock. He’s good at this, Will realizes. Very fucking good at this, and Will is wondering who else Hannibal has done this for, because Will is going to kill all of them._ _

__Hannibal’s hands cup and roll his balls while he alternates deep throating Will and sucking gently on the head of his cock. There’s no rhythm to it, and Will realizes that this could go on for hours, if he keeps up at this pace._ _

__He’s both terrified and aroused at the thought._ _

__Hannibal looks up at him as he slides his mouth to the tip of his cock, his length glistening from spit as it slides past reddened lips. His eyes are dark as they look up at him, so much emotion in his eyes that words just aren’t necessary. Hannibal swallows him whole, swallowing around his length as his nose hits his pelvis, and Will makes a high, keening sound, his thighs and hips locking up to prevent himself from thrusting._ _

__Hannibal groans and pulls away, looking up at him with harsh eyes. He wraps his fingers around Will’s hip, pulling forward. Realization dawns that Hannibal wants him to move. Wants him to take, and he’s scared he’ll hurt him. “I… I shouldn’t, Hannibal,” he pants desperately._ _

__Hannibal yanks his hips forward, sinking over his length again, and Will gives in. He thrusts gently at first, his head falling back as the head of his cock brushes the back of his throat. Hannibal moans around him, tightening the suction around his length as Will fucks into his mouth. The rhythm is so good that Will loses himself in it, the feel of his silken, hot, mouth worshipful around him._ _

__Will can’t stop the noises he’s making; desperate, short, sighs that escape his throat. His body feels like a livewire, white hot pleasure setting his teeth on edge as he thrusts harder, Hannibal’s jaw loosening to give him room. “I’m going to come, Hannibal,” he warns, as he balls draw up against his body. He moves to pull out, to pull away, but Hannibal stills his hips with strong hands, sinking down over him and groaning as Will spills into his mouth._ _

__His hips keep thrusting, and Hannibal milks him with his mouth as he finishes. Will’s whole body feels like it’s going to give out, and Hannibal keeps licking him, cleaning him, his cock twitching with every swipe of his tongue. The over-stimulation feels like a shock, his abdomen convulsing through every deliberate swipe of his tongue. “Hannibal,” Will begs, his fingers tightening against the skin of his neck, trying to pull him away and pull him deeper at the same time._ _

__Hannibal grins, sinking around his semi-flaccid cock, and Will sobs. “Please,” he begs him, though he has no idea what he wants._ _

__His cock is still leaking, and Hannibal suckles the head until Will is hunched over him, his nerves fried from over-stimulation._ _

__Hannibal pulls away reluctantly, and Will’s body keeps twitching with aftershocks. “You tasted so good, I wish I could keep you in my mouth for hours,” Hannibal rasps, his throat fucked out by Will’s cock._ _

__Will groans, flopping gracelessly onto the bed as Hannibal turns his body to lay beside him. “That… I’ve never, fuck,” Will says inelegantly._ _

__“You don’t say,” Hannibal teases with a grin._ _

__“Your mouth,” Will says softly as he reaches out to press his thumb to his bottom lip, and Hannibal chuckles._ _

__“I take it that was alright for you?”_ _

__“Fuck,” Will repeats, his eyes closing for a moment. “Is this what sex with you is going to be like? Because I’m probably going to die.”_ _

__“I certainly hope not,” Hannibal smirks. “Come here, please.”_ _

__Will sits up tiredly, leaning over and pressing his mouth to Hannibal’s, licking deep so he can taste himself on his tongue. He moans at the flavor he finds there, and Hannibal sighs into his mouth._ _

__“I want a list of everyone you’ve blown so I can find them and murder them,” Will says seriously._ _

__Hannibal arches a skeptical eyebrow at him. “That list includes three people, one of them being you.”_ _

__“Good, a short murder spree,” Will muses, running his fingers through coarse chest hair and trailing over a nipple._ _

__“It was a very, very, long time ago, Will. Before I even came to America.” he chuckles._ _

__“Even better. A holiday murder spree,” Will says with a laugh, tipping face up to nip at the side of Hannibal’s jaw affectionately._ _

__“Will,” he reprimands with a laugh._ _

__“Fine, I won’t murder anyone,” Will concedes with a grin. He thinks for a moment, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. “So, have you done… everything with a man?”_ _

__“I’ve never been penetrated, but yes, everything else.”_ _

__“I want to do it all,” Will admits softly. “I’ve never done anything with a man, and I want you to be the first for all of it.”_ _

__“I’d rather be the last,” Hannibal remarks, pressing a kiss to Will’s temple._ _

__“And you get moody when I’m possessive,” Will grins._ _

__“I want you to be the only one to penetrate me,” Hannibal says meaningfully, and Will sputters out a breath._ _

__“You’d want me to do that?” The thought alone makes Will’s cock twitch. To be inside of Hannibal, where no one else has been ignites something primal in Will. Something that aches to claim and mark the one he loves as his own._ _

__“I want you to do everything. Whatever you want, Will.”_ _

__Will makes a noise in the back of his throat, “You’ll make a gluttonous monster, I hope you know.”_ _

__“I look forward to it,” Hannibal chuckles._ _

__“Shit, it’s after ten,” Will realizes with a start. He gets off the bed and goes to the fridge to get a bottled water, opening it and taking a few sips before handing it to Hannibal for his pills._ _

__Hannibal takes the bottle, his jaw settled tight as he sits up and turns from Will to get his pill bottles. His shoulders are rigid, and Will knows immediately that he’s done something he doesn’t like._ _

__“What did I do, Hannibal?” Will asks, crossing his arms defensively._ _

__Hannibal settles himself into the sheets, turning his back to Will. “It’s nothing. Come back to bed, please.”_ _

__Will sighs as he tosses the covers back, climbing into the bed and sliding across it to wrap his arms around Hannibal’s middle. “Talk to me. Despite what people think, I can’t read minds.”_ _

__“You’ve done nothing wrong,” Hannibal replies callously. “You’ve been the perfect nurse-maid, tending to your invalid lover.”_ _

__“You’re pissed off because I realized it was time for your meds? You’re joking, right now,” Will pleads, annoyance seeping into his tone. Will waits for a reply but doesn’t get one. “Hannibal, come on.”_ _

__“I don’t know what you’d like me to say,” he replies bitterly. “No matter what I do, the conversation always steers to my wounds or my bowel movements. I can’t go anywhere without you trailing behind me as though I am an accident-prone invalid. Even after I spend the evening savoring the taste of your cock on my tongue, you worry about antibiotics and stool softeners. Can you not just be with me in the moment? Is that too much to ask of you?”_ _

__Will rolls away from Hannibal and rubs at his temples, his eyes closing as he tries to stay calm. “I get that you’re frustrated, Hannibal. I get that you probably feel sometimes like I am smothering you. We talked about constipation one time, because I told you that when I had my surgery, it was bad. I was concerned for you, because I know you’re too proud to tell me when something is wrong. Everything I’ve done, no matter how annoying, is done out of love. I’m in love with you. You’re a doctor, I don’t need to tell you why you have to take an antibiotic like clockwork. You know.”_ _

__Hannibal sighs, turning slowly to look at Will with a regretful expression on his face. “I know that,” he admits softly. “I merely can not express in words how much I despise being like this. I hate it, Will.”_ _

__“You’re getting stronger every day,” Will reminds him. “It’ll happen slowly. One day you’ll wake up and just go outside with no issue. You’ll get out of bed and feel rested and make me breakfast. Or, you’ll wake up with an erection that you decide you’d like me to take care of for you. All of those things are days or weeks away. You’re healing, and in the meantime, I’ll worry over you.”_ _

__Hannibal’s mouth twists, his eyes flicking away from Will’s own. “I think the issue that upsets me the most is my body’s inability to respond to you. I know it’s the pain medicine, and I’ve considered not taking them anymore, because I can't stand it.”_ _

__“We wouldn’t be having sex anyway, because you’d be in too much pain. Or did you not think of that?”_ _

__“It makes me feel aged,” Hannibal confesses, his voice breaking with the admission. “You stand before me, your body so beautiful I can barely stand to look at you, and I can’t even respond to it. I wonder how long you’ll stay once I get older and it has nothing to do with pain medicine.”_ _

__Will’s mouth falls open as the truth of it finally emerges. He’s hurt that Hannibal feels that way, and the shallow perspective that Hannibal seems to have of Will chafes him. “If you had to have your dick amputated for some reason, I would stay. If you, for some reason, never had a dick to begin with, I would stay. I’ve been in love with you for the better part of a decade, and I haven’t touched you yet. So please, stop this. I’ll love you in whatever way you can let me, for as long as I can. You tell me that I don’t see myself clearly, but apparently, neither do you.”_ _

__“You think I don’t see you, Will?” The way the question is asked implies insult, and Will doesn’t understand it._ _

__“No, not if you think my love for you has anything to do with your dick, I don’t,” Will says harshly, sitting up to look at Hannibal’s face. “So, if the situation were reversed, would you leave? Would you abandon me because I couldn’t get it up?”_ _

__Hannibal huffs, “It’s not the same.”_ _

__“How the fuck isn’t it the same?” Will asks indignantly._ _

__“Because my love for you is more than yours for me.”_ _

__Will feels like he’s been punched in his gut. “What did you just say to me?”_ _

__“You heard me,” Hannibal says harshly._ _

__Will sits for a few moments in complete silence, his anger mounting. “I can’t believe you’d say that to me. I can’t believe you still think that I don’t have feelings for you that are an exact reflection of the ones that you have for me.”_ _

__“Is that analogy supposed to supplicate me? That your empathy disorder snags on my feelings and you confuse them for your own?”_ _

__“You are fucking twisting my words,” Will stands from the bed, pulling a sweater over his chest and his pajama pants on. “We’ve both hurt each other, Hannibal. We’ve both done things to one another that are unforgivable. The fact that you think… that you imagine I wouldn’t…”_ _

__His frustration mounts, and the sheer magnitude of everything he’s accomplished for the ungrateful man in front of him this week hits him like a train. Will’s voice breaks, and he swallows the tears down as hard as he can. He wouldn’t let Hannibal see him cry. He’d shed enough tears in the last week for him. “I would die for you. I would do anything for you. I’m sorry that you fucked with my head for so long that I couldn’t see my feelings for you as clearly as you could for me.”_ _

__Will swipes at the tears that escape his eyes, and he knows Hannibal sees it. He hates himself for letting Hannibal see it. “I’m sleeping above deck. I don’t want to be with you right now.”_ _

__He pauses on the steps, turning his body slightly towards Hannibal. “When we first met, I let you see me and know me, too. You were the first person in my life that I trusted wholly. I would have done anything for you, then. It was only after you did your little experiment, seeing what happens to a beautiful mind while it suffers from encephalitis that I lost my faith in you. You were the only lifeboat that had ever come for me, and I worshipped you for it while you let me drown. I just thought you should know that.”_ _

__He slams the door as he leaves the cabin, settling himself on the vinyl bench uncomfortably. At least up here, under the stars and cool ocean breeze, he can cry where no one can hear him._ _

__At some point he must have fallen asleep because the sun is rising when he blinks awake. His eyes are burning and swollen as he squints in the early morning light as he sits up on the bench. His shoulder is so sore he can barely move. He hunches forward, trying to stretch the muscle, pressing his fingertips into the ache that’s settled there._ _

__He wonders what time it is and is immediately pissed off at himself for wondering it. He still cared, though. He didn’t want Hannibal to get pneumonia again or even worse, sepsis. He goes below deck reluctantly, noting that it’s just after six. He goes to the bed, shaking Hannibal awake gently. “It’s six, Hannibal,” he says quietly._ _

__Hannibal blinks his eyes open, and the immense bags under his eyes prove that he didn’t get much sleep either. Will opens the antibiotic bottle and shakes out two, then the pain meds bottle and shakes out one, handing them to Hannibal with a press of his fingertips into his palm._ _

__He doesn’t say anything else as he walks stiffly to the bathroom, trying to roll the terrible ache from his shoulder. He uses the toilet and performs his morning routine perfunctorily. After he’s finished washing his face in the sink, he stares at his mangled reflection in the mirror. He thinks it’s fitting how after all this time, his reflection finally indicates just how ugly he is on the inside, too._ _

__When he emerges, he’s startled by Hannibal standing in the kitchen, brewing a pot of coffee. “Will,” he says softly. “Forgive me. Please, I said… unforgivable things last night.”_ _

__“Unforgivable, yes. But do you believe what you were saying is true?” Will asks, his throat constricting around his words._ _

__“I believe that you have no intention of leaving me right now, and I also believe that your desire to leave could change with the tide. I think you love me right now while I am here with you, caressing your skin and in such poor health that I am no danger to anyone save myself. I think the love you have for me will be used by you, threatened with revocation once I am healed and I kill someone that doesn’t meet your ruthless approval. What you want, my dear Will, is ever-changing, and fluid. It’s one of the things I love the most about you; the inability to predict you. It’s also one of the things I resent the most, as I can never trust what you’re promising me won’t bend and break with the wind.”_ _

__Will stares at him for a long time after he’s finished speaking, and his unwavering eyes on Hannibal’s own are still for long enough that Hannibal eventually manages to shift his feet, glancing away. Will wanted to deny the things that Hannibal said, but how could he? He knew that was who he had been for as long as he could remember. What wasn’t fair, though, was assuming that Will was unchanged by all that had happened. “So, what you’re saying is that you’re sorry you said unforgivable, but true, things. You think I’m a shallow, insouciant lover. You think my love for you is about as deep as a puddle, right?”_ _

__“That’s not what I said at all,” Hannibal sighs._ _

__“I’ve got to go above deck,” Will interrupts him. “Would you like something to eat, before I do?”_ _

__Hannibal groans, rubbing his face with his palm. “No, Will.”_ _

__Will nods and goes to walk past him, towards the stairs, and Hannibal catches his wrist. “I don’t doubt your love for me. Nor do I think it’s shallow.”_ _

__Will turns on him, and the anger and frustration he’s feeling mounts. Everything he’d done in the last week, all that he’d abandoned, and yet here he was begging for the trust of a man who’d put blades to his body. Twice. “I’m a flight risk, though, right? And what have I ever done to prove my loyalty to you? Apparently, nothing,” Will spits, tearing a sharp knife from the butcher block with a metallic clang. He twirls the blade, pressing the handle into Hannibal’s palm, blade pointing out._ _

__He takes advantage of Hannibal’s momentary bewilderment, taking Hannibal’s elbow and his wrist, tugging him close as the tip of the blade pierces his side. Hannibal flinches, trying to pull his wrist away, but Will has a tight grip on the back of his elbow, pressing in further. “You doubt me. You think nothing I’ve done means anything. Just be rid of me, then.”_ _

__“Will, stop. Stop this,” he pleads, his eyes welling with tears as the wound in Will’s side leaks blood down to the waistband of his pajama pants._ _

__Will lets his elbow go, and Hannibal tears the knife out and throws it as though it had burned him. His hands are at Will’s side immediately, and Will shrugs him off. “When you decide to do it, make it quick, please.”_ _

__Will goes above deck robotically, his nerves fried out and his exhaustion settling over him like a heavy blanket. He sets the sails and pulls anchor, settling into the cockpit with a wince. He takes his hoodie off, as the sun is already much hotter than it was the day before, glancing down at the small, but reasonably deep puncture wound just to the side of his smile on his abdomen._ _

__He doesn’t move to clean it or staunch the blood flow. He merely watches it with a detached disinterest in the same way that he looks out over the sea as he navigates it._ _

__It’s only a few moments later that Hannibal emerges from below deck, the duffel bag of medical supplies slung over his shoulder. Will glances up at him, noticing that his eyes are puffy as though he had been crying. “I need to clean that up,” Hannibal says quietly._ _

__“Leave it.”_ _

__“Is this a cry for my attention, Will? Because you have it,” Hannibal says harshly._ _

__Will glances up at him, his mouth quirking with the edge of a grin. “I wish sometimes that you could share my gift for even a moment, right now being one of them. I wish you could feel how burned out I am, because I don’t know how else to prove myself to you. Do you know what I’ve done to get us here? Do you know what I would do to keep it? There are no bounds, Hannibal. You seem to think that I’m only capable of having one emotion at a time. Yeah, I’ve been pissed off at you. I’ve been angry, and manipulative, and through all of it, I’ve loved you. It doesn’t switch on and off like a fucking light. It’s always there, always blinding me. No matter how else I feel. Right now, I feel hopeless. There’s no way I can show you what you mean to me. There’s nothing I can do to make you understand. I’m… I’m tired, Hannibal.”_ _

__“I’m afraid, Will,” Hannibal admits softly. Will’s eyes glance up at his, and he’s surprised to find them glassy. “I won’t survive it if you leave me. I won’t recover from it if your love dwindles because you haven’t seen me the way that I can be, sometimes.”_ _

__“Are you serious?” Will asks. “I saw you, Hannibal. I watched you tear out Dolarhyde’s throat with your teeth. I don’t imagine that what we did to him will be much better than what we’ll do to others, aside from taking organs from them. Watching you tear his throat out… all I could think was that I wanted my mouth on yours. I wanted to taste you while you were covered in blood like that. I’m never leaving you, I’m never going to love you less. You’re very unfortunately stuck with me.”_ _

__Hannibal busies his hands with unpacking medical supplies, his jaw set firmly. “I’m sorry, Will. I’m sorry I doubt you, and more than that, I’m sorry I’ve been ungrateful. I’ve never been in this position, before. The last time I needed someone’s help was after Misha was killed. I want to tell you that I don’t mind you seeing me this way, that I want you to know all of me, but I’m frustrated with myself and with my body.”_ _

__“You think I don’t know exactly where you’re coming from?” Will asks, leaning back into the seat so Hannibal can clean up his wound. “You have nothing to apologize about. If I had anyone at all around me after my surgery, I would have torn their heads off, I was so frustrated by my recovery. I had no one, though, so… there was that. I couldn’t jerk off, I couldn’t go fishing, I couldn’t play with my dogs. I didn’t have you, or work. I’m serious when I tell you I was in a dark place.”_ _

__“Surely someone must have visited you,” Hannibal whispered softly, his face pinched as he cleansed the wound with antiseptic._ _

__“Who?” Will chuckled darkly. “Jack was in the hospital too, and he had Bella at home who was very sick. Alana had a longer recovery than I did. Bev was my only real friend at work, and she was… gone. You were gone. Freddie Lounds snuck into my room once to sneak photos of my fucking colostomy bag, but I wouldn’t say her visit helped my disposition. I was completely alone, Hannibal.”_ _

__“I don’t deserve you at all, do I?” Will’s eyes snap up to Hannibal’s face with the tone of his words, and Will almost regrets having said anything to him at all when he does. His eyes are darker than he’s ever seen them, and his mouth and jaw are clenched so tightly Will’s own jaw aches just looking at him._ _

__“I didn’t tell you that to make you feel guilty,” Will says softly. “I’m just trying to tell you, and very poorly I might add, that you have me. Take it out on me if you want, but don’t question how I feel about you. Not after everything.”_ _

__“And you keep saying things that make me feel even more guilty,” Hannibal says dryly. “Why did you do this?” He asks, as his fingers work in a few stitches to keep the small wound closed._ _

__“I don’t know,” Will admits with a sigh. “You and I have never been in this gray area before. You’ve either been actively worshipping me or attempting to kill me. This middle ground where I have to earn your trust is discouraging. You’ve done some horrible things to me, too. I guess I did it because if you’ve felt I was betraying you in the past, a blade in me is where we were headed. I thought, ‘why wait?’”_ _

__“I don’t want to hurt you, anymore. Don’t ever do this to me again, please.” Hannibal’s face was tipped downward to place clean gauze over Will’s wound, but Will noticed the shine of a tear tracking his sharp cheekbone. Will reached forward and tipped his face up, his fingertips against the stubble of his jaw. Hannibal kept his eyes downward, his lashes damp against his cheeks, and Will’s heart constricted._ _

__He leaned forward and pressed his lips to the dampness along his cheekbone, kissing the tear that escaped away with his mouth. “Skip your two o’clock pain meds. Can you do that? Is it too painful?”_ _

__Hannibal’s mouth tipped towards a frown. “It wouldn’t be horrible, no. Although I can’t say for sure, as I haven’t gone without them since.”_ _

__“I wanted to sail all day, but I’m tired and hungry. My shoulder is killing me from sleeping on the fucking bench. All I want to do is drop anchor, eat something, and sleep for a little bit.”_ _

__“So do that, then. I’ll go below deck and make us an omelet if that pleases you.”_ _

__Will bites his lip, worrying for a moment. “Should you be rummaging around in a kitchen? Are you in a lot of pain?”_ _

__Hannibal lets out a frustrated sigh. “I’d like to set a few ground rules too,” Hannibal admits, his tone harder than the expression on his face. “I appreciate your concern, but if I think I can do something, don’t question it. I know my limits, Will. I won’t hurt myself doing something unnecessary. Trust me enough to not question every move I make.”_ _

__“I worry for you. I’ve watched you die twice, Hannibal.”_ _

__Hannibal reaches forward and tugs his fingers through Will’s curls, pressing his mouth to Will’s softly, and Will sighs into it. “I’m not dying anymore. At least not imminently.”_ _

__“Go make me an omelet,” Will says softly, conceding to Hannibal’s desire to feed him. “I like cheese in it.”_ _

__“Is there another way to have an omelet?” Hannibal asks, his tone teasing. He packs the supplies away and turns towards the door, taking his time getting down the steps with a palm pressed to his side. Will spends a few moments going over their route, figuring out where they are and how much longer they’d be at sea. Even with this delay, if he sails for a bit before dawn, they could be in Havana by tomorrow night. The thought alone motivates him, as he settles the sails and drops anchor._ _

__He goes below deck, and the familiar scents of Hannibal cooking greet him. He asked for an omelet, but of course, Hannibal doesn’t know how to just cook a few eggs. He’s cut up some fresh fruit, only slightly wilted from the amount of time they’ve been on board. He’s got a few strips of bacon sizzling in a pan, and chives chopped blade thin on a cutting board. He’s done something to the bacon, the strips coated in seasoning as they bubble in the pan, and it makes Will’s mouth water._ _

__Will uses the bathroom, and emerges to Hannibal plating two gorgeous omelets, each with a side of bacon and fresh fruit cut into the shape of flowers._ _

__Hannibal sets both plates down at the table, presenting them with a flourish. “Brunch, Will.”_ _

__Will’s smile is so wide his cheek aches. “You can’t do anything half-assed, can you?”_ _

__“I don’t even know what that means, so, no?” Hannibal says with a chuckle._ _

__Will laughs as he sits down, watching Hannibal sit carefully in the seat across from him. “Thank you.”_ _

__“I’m happy to do it, Will,” Hannibal says softly. The gentle quirk of his mouth suggests that he’s more than happy to._ _

__It’s delicious, because of course it is. Will eats it so quickly his stomach aches as he finishes his plate, and he’s embarrassed to notice that Hannibal has barely taken more than a few bites. Hannibal doesn’t seem to mind, though, judging by the amused quirk of his mouth as he watches Will pat his stomach._ _

__“The bacon,” Will says with a sigh. “You have to show me what you did, because fuck, that’s good.”_ _

__“The noises you were making while you were eating it,” Hannibal says with a flush of his cheeks. “They were the same noises as when you came down my throat.”_ _

__The abrupt flush of arousal spreads over Will’s skin, and he feels dizzy for a moment as all the blood in his body rushes south. “Certainly not the same, Jesus.”_ _

__“The same,” Hannibal says gruffly, his nose scenting the air gently with the arrival of Will’s arousal._ _

__“Sorry,” Will blushes, adjusting himself in the seat. “You don’t need my shit right now, I know.”_ _

__“I’m flattered, actually.” Hannibal says, cutting into a piece of his omelet. “I haven’t touched you at all. All you need is my voice. I’m tempted to see how far it could go.”_ _

__A small, helpless, noise escapes Will’s throat, and Hannibal grins around the food in his mouth. Will stands abruptly, picking up his plate and silverware and goes to the sink, adjusting himself in his pajama pants as he does. He busies his hands with cleaning up the dishes, and Hannibal joins him at the sink a few minutes later, his plate mostly clean. He steps behind Will, pressing himself against his back as Will washes dishes, and Will tips his head to the side to make room for Hannibal’s chin to rest against his shoulder._ _

__Will can barely think with Hannibal pressed so closely. His hands are rubbing gently against his sides, and then his hips. Hannibal presses one palm gently over his erection, cupping it in his warm palm, sliding it up and tracing the outline of it against his abdomen. His mouth is gliding lazily against his throat, dragging his stubble and soft lips against the sensitive skin, pressing damp kisses along the way._ _

__“Do you see what you do to me?” Will asks as he shuts the water off, leaning his hands against the rim of the sink as one of Hannibal’s hands snakes down the front of his pajamas, stroking him gently._ _

__“I feel it, Will,” he says softly, his thumb pressing gently against the head, sweeping up the precum there and spreading it down his shaft._ _

__Will turns in his embrace, forcing Hannibal to let go of his cock and Will slams his mouth against Hannibal’s, pressing his tongue demandingly into his mouth. Their mouths explore for a while, Will thrusting gently against his thigh as they do._ _

__Will breaks the contact, regretfully, when he feels Hannibal sagging against him. “Let’s get some sleep, yeah? I’ll set an alarm for two, but we’re staying in bed.”_ _

__Hannibal nods, his eyes drooping, even then his mouth keeps pressing soft kisses against Will’s skin._ _

__Will drags him to the bed, and they both groan as they settle into the sheets. Hannibal lays flat on his back, and Will drags himself across the mattress to settle against Hannibal’s side._ _

__The older man blinks awake for a moment, a smile tugging on his lips as he wraps his arm around Will’s back, and they drift off._ _

__They wake only briefly at two to get Hannibal his antibiotic, skipping the pain pill, this time. Will wonders if that’s a good idea, but Hannibal promises he’s comfortable as they settle back into the sheets._ _


	7. Chapter 7

_“I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world.”  
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles_

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__Will wakes up sometimes after six, feeling very well rested and slightly groggy from the amount of sleep he’d gotten. He climbs from the bed quietly, heading for the shower._ _

__When he emerges from the bathroom, Hannibal is sitting on the edge of the bed with a tight expression on his face, holding his side in a way that suggests he’s feeling the lack of pain medicine, right now. “You should take it, Hannibal.”_ _

__Hannibal shakes his head, “I’ll take two at ten, and sleep like the dead for it. It only hurts when I’m moving. I didn’t notice it so much when I was lying in bed.”_ _

__Will sighs at his stubbornness, but heads to the kitchen to start dinner. “How’s chicken sound?”_ _

__“Fine. I’m not certain I’m in the mood to eat, Will.”_ _

__“Well you have to eat a little something,” Will pleads. “Rest. I’ll make a little something and wake you when it’s done.”_ _

__Hannibal nods, getting up from the bed carefully to use the restroom. As Will cooks, he can hear the shower running, then the bathroom sink. Will is plating the chicken stir-fry as Hannibal emerges, his mouth in a tight line from pain, but freshly shaved and smelling clean._ _

__“It smells good,” Hannibal says softly, taking the plate that Will offers him. “I’d kill for a good steak, though.”_ _

__“Yeah,” Will chuckles, sitting opposite him at the small table. “You won’t be having pork or steak for a while. I was told to steer clear for four weeks to avoid blockages.”_ _

__“Will,” Hannibal says with a groan. “Please, let’s not discuss my bowels for a moment. I know how long I must wait. I was a medical doctor.”_ _

__“Right,” Will sighs, spearing a piece of chicken and zucchini with his fork. “To be fair, I was talking about my bowels.”_ _

__“And the topic, while fascinating, is not dinner conversation.”_ _

__Will laughs, covering his mouth with his hand as he chews. “We’ve discussed murder at the table while we ate another human being. A little intestinal banter is light, for us.”_ _

__“You’ve over-cooked the zucchini,” Hannibal says with a quirk of his lips._ _

__“Soft foods are easier for digestion,” Will teases back._ _

__“You’re obnoxious.”_ _

__“Have you only just realized?” Will chuckles._ _

__Hannibal laughs, and it’s a real one. He holds his side as he does, his eyes crinkling beautifully with the gesture. “I’ve missed you, Will.”_ _

__Will drops his fork in his plate, leaning across the small table to press a kiss to Hannibal’s mouth, which the older man returns softly. Will pulls away after a moment, touching the side of his face briefly. “I’ve missed you, too.”_ _

__The finish their dinner in silence, but their eyes hold one another’s as they do._ _

__Hannibal does some gentle stretches after dinner while Will cleans up, and Will can’t take his eyes off the little sliver of belly and hips that peeks out from the bottom of his tee shirt as he stretches his arms over his head. “I look forward to getting in the pool in Cuba,” Hannibal admits, his eyes closed as he stretches his shoulders._ _

__“We have a pool?” Will asks, surprise in his voice._ _

__“Yes, and it’s a good size. In a week or so when my stitches can come out, water exercises will aid me greatly in recovering my strength. Both from incarceration and recovery, I think.”_ _

__“I’ve never lived anywhere that had a pool,” Will admits softly. “The nicest home I’ve ever had was my house in Wolf Trap.”_ _

__“Your house with your wife wasn’t nice?” Hannibal asks, and there is an undertone in his voice that causes wariness in Will._ _

__“It was a log cabin,” Will says quietly. “It was her first husband’s. He built it, and it was pretty, uh, rustic. I liked it well enough, but my house in Wolf Trap was my favorite home so far.”_ _

__“What happened to him, if I may ask?”_ _

__“Car accident,” Will says softly. “She and I bonded over the love of our lives being lost to us. Although I never really talked about you. I would just… agree when she spoke of missing him. When she talked about how everything reminded her of him. She told me once that for years after he died, if she was talking to someone and they said something funny, she would look for him in the room to see if he thought it was funny, too. Everything she said was just… exactly how I felt about losing you.”_ _

__“Did you love her?”_ _

__Will sighs as he shuts off the faucet, draping the dish towel on the hook. “I wanted to. It was nice, not being alone. At least initially, anyway. Once we were married, things settled out, and I became her entire world. Sometimes that was nice, most times I felt… suffocated by it. She didn’t know me at all, and she never would. She loved her sweet man, her shy little guy, all things she’s said to me, by the way. I felt… I felt fucking castrated by it, sometimes.”_ _

__“So you proposed to someone who only knew your mask? Never a good basis for marriage, Will.”_ _

__“I never proposed to her,” Will admits softly. “We got married because she needed surgery to repair a hernia. My insurance was better than hers.”_ _

__“Your life while I was away sounds… unfulfilling. I’m sorry, Will.”_ _

__“She never knew me at all. I’d hear her talking to people, her mom or her sister, and she’d be telling them that I was so sweet, so shy, just harmless, really. Her sister had some common sense, she never liked me. I over-heard them one night, and her sister was telling her to try to see me clearly and think about it. Everyone had read the articles about you and I, about the sordid shit I was involved in doing. And I’ll never forget Molly’s response. She says, ‘Will is so sweet that he was probably kind to that sicko because he felt bad for him. Will is like a puppy, that way.’_ _

__“How could she know that just that morning I left the bakery, and a man that worked there recognized me from the news and asked me if I trusted a cannibal to blow me. I barely remember what I said to him, because I was resolved to come back and kill him. I imagined sliding a blade into his throat, letting him choke on it. I still wish I would have, even now.”_ _

__“There are two sides to every coin, Will,” Hannibal says softly, coming around Will to get a bottled water from the fridge. “It isn’t Molly’s fault that you never let her see the opposite side. You can be sweet, Will. You have a softness to you that is mouthwatering. It doesn’t define you, though. Your darker urges and tendencies towards manipulation are just as divine to see.”_ _

__“My softness is mouthwatering?” Will chuckles, turning towards Hannibal and pressing his body against the refrigerator door. “There was nothing soft about me last night, and you seemed to find that mouthwatering.”_ _

__“And now you know the answer to the question the vulgar baker asked. You do trust a cannibal to blow you, it seems.”_ _

__Will presses his body fully against Hannibal’s own, leaning forward to lick at his lips. Hannibal opens for him eagerly, their tongues brushing softly as Will presses his thigh between Hannibal’s legs, feeling the slightest stir of arousal against his thigh._ _

__“Do you trust a cannibal to blow you, Doctor Lecter?” Will asks softly, dragging his lips against the older man’s teasingly while his hands grasp palmfuls of his ass to drag him closer._ _

__Hannibal doesn’t even manage a response, just a pitiful groan as his head tips back to rest against the freezer door. Will takes the open invitation to his neck, suckling a bruise against his pulse point, nipping gently against the sharp curve of his jaw. “Will,” he finally manages, his eyes fluttering closed as Will shifts his leg against him, feeling the slightest twitch of interest as he does._ _

__“Get on the bed, please. Take your clothes off.” Will demands softly, stepping away to shed his own clothes._ _

__Hannibal yanks the tee shirt from over his head, one hand palming his side as he does. He’s in pain, and Will knows it. He’s just too stubborn to do anything about it. Will would have to be careful, but he could do that._ _

__He watches as Hannibal strips his pajama bottoms, letting them slide down his thighs as he sits on the edge of the bed, bringing his feet carefully over the side to lay flat on the mattress. Will nudges him over gently, towards the center of the bed, and Hannibal shifts until he’s comfortable._ _

__Will goes into the bathroom quickly to get a bottle of aloe from the bathroom, as there isn’t anything else on board to use to slick them up a little bit. He hadn’t been thinking of this when he did his pharmacy run, and he’s disappointed that he didn’t. He brings his tee shirt with him, as he doesn’t want them to finish on Hannibal’s stomach. It just wouldn’t be sanitary on his healing wounds._ _

__Will climbs over him, straddling his thighs gently, doing his best not to jostle the bed too much. “You have to be still. If I see you thrusting, or moving, or even a grimace of pain, I stop. You hear me?”_ _

__Hannibal glares up at him while his palms slide up Will’s thighs, then his hips. “I hear you, Will.”_ _

__Will leans over him carefully, dragging his hard cock against Hannibal’s semi-erect one, as he brings their mouths together softly. Hannibal is a good kisser; his tongue slides softly against Will’s own, tasting deeply and retreating to nip at Will’s lips. Will could be content doing this for hours, just the soft drag and press of hot lips and tongue, but he’s not in the mood for that, now._ _

__He tips Hannibal’s head up, his hands cupping just under his jaw, and drags his lips to the arch of his sharp cheekbone, pressing damp kisses against the skin there, then sliding down to bite gently at the sharp edge of his jaw. Hannibal’s neck has always been a bit of a fascination for him, so he trails down and suckles against the soft skin just under his jaw, then under his ear. His scent here is stronger, and Will buries his face against the nape of his neck, inhaling while his palms traverse the hard planes of muscle on his chest and shoulders._ _

__Unable to resist, he leans over and suckles a bruise against the soft skin stretched over the corded muscles of his shoulder, and Hannibal moans under the unexpected delight of Will worshipping him like this._ _

__Will comes back up, suckling softly against his collar bone, then his clavicle. He wants the taste of Hannibal’s skin on his tongue for hours, but he’s not sure Hannibal could take that, right now. They had plenty enough time for it later._ _

__Hannibal’s own hands aren’t idle, they’re tracing Will’s body everywhere he can reach without moving. Which is good, because Will would hate for this to end here, right now._ _

__Will slides his fingers through dense chest hair, marveling at the masculinity of the man under him. He presses his face to his chest, dragging his cheek against it, nipping gently at the pectoral muscle with his teeth. He’s still too thin, his ribs protruding slightly, but he’s still gorgeous. Will presses his mouth to each rib, kissing it reverently because he had no intention of seeing them for long. He may as well love them while they’re here._ _

__His cock is mostly hard by the time Will makes his way down to it, and he wraps his fingers around him gently, stroking him to full-arousal. “It still feels strange,” Hannibal says softly. “It’s like I’m not here for it, and I despise that.”_ _

__“Opioids stay in your system for a long time,” Will says quietly, marveling at the size and weight of the cock in his hands. Every inch of him was beautiful, and Will couldn’t wait to take him apart when he was feeling better. “Is it too strange? Would you rather I stop?”_ _

__“No,” Hannibal says quickly, his fingers tracing the shape of Will’s jawline. “It still feels good, just… not as I know it should.”_ _

__“We have time,” Will promises him as he flicks his tongue out to collect the precum leaking from the head. It tastes salty and slightly bitter, but no differently than his own. “One day, sometimes soon, I’m going to keep you in bed with me all day. I’ll know every inch of you with my mouth, and when I’m finished, I’m going to bury myself inside of you for hours, Hannibal.”_ _

__Hannibal moans as Will sinks over him, hollowing his cheeks to take in as much as he can, which is far from all of it. He comes back up to the head, pressing the flat of his tongue against it, and pressing the tip of his tongue harshly into the slit of his cock. Hannibal’s thighs tense under him, and he pulls away to look up at the wrecked man under him harshly. “Be still,” he demands while his hand continues tugging at him absently._ _

__Hannibal swallows thickly, and Will leans over him to lick from root to tip. His skin here is clean and smells musky, and Will presses his mouth against the base of his cock, suckling gently against the vein underneath. “Will,” Hannibal pleads softly, his fists tightening into the bedsheets in an effort to prevent himself from moving._ _

__Will sinks over him again, holding the base of his cock as his mouth works the rest of him, sucking hard while keeping his teeth as covered as he can. It’s more difficult than he’d imagined, and he hopes it isn’t terrible. He knows what he likes, so he’s trying to do that for Hannibal, and he thinks he’s doing a good enough job based on the harsh breaths of the man under him._ _

__He pulls away reluctantly, sliding his hips back over Hannibal’s thighs while licking his lips. “One day, I’d like to have you finish in my mouth. Right now, though, I’d really like to look at you,” Will says softly as he uncaps the aloe and warms a palmful of it in his hand._ _

__He aligns their cocks and wraps the wet palm around the both of them the best he can, squeezing gently as he works the aloe all over them. They both moan at the sensation of it, and Will works his fist more quickly over them as he leans over to press their mouths together again._ _

__Hannibal makes the smallest, most helpless thrust, and Will pulls away to tut at him. “Be still, Hannibal, I’m not kidding.”_ _

__The groan from Hannibal’s throat is a tormented one, and Will slams his mouth back down, swallowing the noise in a deep kiss. Hannibal’s hands come up and hold the sides of his face, tipping his head to deepen the kiss while Will’s palm works them both between their stomachs._ _

__Will is close, he realizes with a flick of his wrist. The white-hot zings of pleasure rolling over his nerve-endings make his toes curl and his hips shift without conscious decision to. He squeezes them a little tighter in his fist, working the heads in his wet palm quickly and firmly, and Will has to pull away from Hannibal’s mouth so he can drag his discarded tee shirt over and spill into the fabric with a moan._ _

__Hannibal is watching him as he finishes, his mouth open and his eyes dark, and Will tremors with an aftershock as he pants above him. “Fuck, I’m sorry. You felt too good.”_ _

__“Are you apologizing for finishing so beautifully? Will, please.”_ _

__“I’m apologizing for coming like a teenager. I can do better than this, I promise,” Will says with a breathless laugh._ _

__Will takes a clean part of the tee shirt and wipes at the aloe on Hannibal’s still erect cock, cleaning it off. “This works out for you,” Will teases with a raised eyebrow. “I guess you get to finish in my mouth after-all.”_ _

__“I don’t know that I can finish,” Hannibal says softly. “It’s not… the feeling is too removed, Will.”_ _

__“I’d like to try. Stop thinking about how you can’t, and think about me, Hannibal,” he pleads as he settles between Hannibal’s thighs, working him gently with his palm. “It’s me doing this to you. It’s my mouth on you. It’s me loving you,” Will says softly._ _

__Hannibal moans desperately as Will sinks his mouth over him, and Will lets his saliva pool so the glide is as wet as it can be. He breathes through his nose as he sinks himself down as far as he can, Hannibal’s cock nudging the back of his throat. He swallows around the head, and Hannibal makes a desperate noise in the back of his throat. Will looks up at him while he’s deep throating him, and Hannibal’s eyes are devouring him. His face is damp with sweat, and his mouth is parted and pink from kissing, and Will moans around him, sinking down more, fighting the gag that wants to happen._ _

__Will finds a rhythm, working his mouth over him with a rough suction, then sliding down to swallow around him, and Hannibal’s breathing picks up. “Will,” he sighs, his fists twisting into the blankets. It takes a while, which doesn’t bother Will at all. He finds he likes the weight of him on his tongue, and the taste of him in his mouth. Will feels his thighs tense, and he’s aware that Hannibal is close. He picks up his pace, suckling more and humming in his throat as he swallows around the head, and Hannibal comes undone._ _

__He pulls up to the head as Hannibal’s cock jerks in his mouth, flooding it with hot come and Will is trying to swallow it down, but some is escaping. He leaves it for now, milking Hannibal through his orgasm with his lips and tongue, swallowing what he can. When Hannibal stills under him, Will takes the opportunity to lick the rest that’s escaped down his shaft, pulling away to thumb the bit that’s leaked down the side of his chin back into his mouth._ _

__Hannibal watches him bonelessly from the bed, his mouth open as he sucks in gasps of air. His facial expression is almost comical in its disbelief, and Will chuckles as he slides over him to press his mouth against Hannibal’s parted one. Hannibal accepts the kiss desperately, gliding his tongue deeply and moaning at his flavor in Will’s mouth. “Was that alright?” Will asks coyly, a filthy little smirk on his face as he looks down at Hannibal._ _

__“It was… I…” Hannibal tries, and fails, earning a laugh from Will as he settles out against his side. “I almost don’t believe you haven’t done that before. I know you haven’t, but, still.”_ _

__“You tasted good,” Will says softly as he drags his lips against Hannibal’s own, not kissing, just… savoring. “I could have done it for hours, Hannibal.”_ _

__“I need my pain medicine, I think,” Hannibal says with a grimace. “You didn’t hurt me, I just went too long without it.”_ _

__“Stubborn,” Will chuckles as he reaches for the water bottle and pill bottles from the end table._ _

__It’s almost ten, and Hannibal decides he’s going to take all his pills at one time. He sips the water, trying to drink most of it. He doesn’t drink enough water, and Will wants to chastise him, but he seems to know it as he almost finishes the bottle._ _

__“I’m going to regret drinking all of that when I have to wake up high as a kite to use the restroom.”_ _

__“If you need me, wake me up, please,” Will pleads softly. “Don’t be stubborn.”_ _

__“I’ll wake you, Will,” he promises as he tugs Will down against his side, tracing his spine lazily with his fingers._ _

__It’s only a few minutes later when Hannibal’s breathing evens out, and Will presses a kiss over his heart. Sleep doesn’t find him because he’s listening to the slow, even, rhythm of the heartbeat under his ear. He almost lost this. He almost killed the only person who’s ever known him, who’s ever loved him, and the only one in his lonely life that he’s ever loved in return. His guilt is like a weight over his chest, constricting it and making it difficult to breathe._ _

__He climbs from the bed quietly, pulling on his pajama bottoms. He opens a window, letting in warm ocean air to clear out the sex and sweat smells in the cabin. He’s decided to sail overnight, making it possible that they could arrive in Cuba for dinnertime._ _

__He goes above deck, taking a moment to look at how many stars he can see out here on the open ocean. The moon is bright, and it gives plenty of light to see where he’s going. He pulls anchor and sets the sails, settling into the cockpit lazily. The wind is good tonight, and he grins as the boat slices through the water, wind in his hair._ _

__He sails for close to seven hours, going below deck only to use the bathroom and make a pot of coffee. Hannibal hasn’t moved once, still in the same position he fell asleep in all those hours ago. He looks soft and warm, and Will fights the urge to climb in bed and kiss him._ _

__He needs his rest._ _

__He goes above deck with his coffee as the sun comes up, watching the sunrise glow brilliant orange and red on the horizon. He sails for another hour, and just as he’s about to go below deck to wake Hannibal for his pills, the cabin door creeks open and Hannibal emerges, two fresh cups of coffee in his hands._ _

__Will grins as he takes one, and the sleep rumpled man leans over to kiss him. “Have you gotten any sleep?” he asks gruffly._ _

__“No,” Will admits hesitantly, taking a sip of coffee that’s better than anything he manages to make. “I want to get there, Hannibal. I want to see our home and settle into our life. I ache for it.”_ _

__“How much longer, do you think?” He asks as he settles behind Will, pressing kisses to his throat._ _

__Will tips his head, smiling at the affection, “If I keep going, we could be there by dinnertime.”_ _

__“Really,” Hannibal says, a smile tugging his lips against the side of Will’s throat. “You’re a miracle, Will.”_ _

__“It’s good, I think. We’d have a lot to do once we get there. I imagine no one’s lived in it for a while, right?”_ _

__“Not in years, no,” Hannibal admits, pulling away to sip at his coffee. “We’d be alright to settle in for the first night. Fresh bed sheets and the food from the boat. We won’t need to do much else today. It shouldn’t be too terrible; I have a property manager that cleans it once a month and repairs it as necessary.”_ _

__“How do you manage that from prison?” Will asks with a laugh._ _

__“I have many accounts, Will. Most of them weren’t found by the FBI, as they were under alias’ and hidden. All of my properties that weren’t seized are managed via direct payment from different accounts. I suppose now is the time to tell you that you’re in love with a count. We are quite wealthy.”_ _

__“Jesus,” Will laughs. “Count Hannibal Lecter, PhD. Like you need to have your ego stroked any more than it already is.”_ _

__“Count Hannibal Lecter, MD, PhD,” Hannibal corrects with a chuckle._ _

__“Would you like to be alone while you stroke your ego?” Will asks with a laugh._ _

__Hannibal wraps his free arm around Will’s waist, kissing the nape of his hair and breathing in gently. “I’d much rather you stroke it for me.”_ _

__“Are you still a medical doctor?” Will asks. “Wouldn’t they de-throne you or whatever it’s called once they found out that you were doing the exact opposite of their Hippocratic oath?”_ _

__“Technically, yes. I worked hard for it, so I’m going to hold onto it in spite of the revocation.”_ _

__“Yep, sounds like you,” Will teases._ _

__Hannibal settles himself onto the vinyl bench to the side of the cockpit, head tipped back into the breeze as he sips his coffee. “We’re out of eggs, but I’ll figure something out for breakfast.”_ _

__“You don’t need to do that,” Will tells him. “We can just finish off the fruit and bacon. If you want to make it how you did yesterday, I won’t complain.”_ _

__“I can do that,” Hannibal says with a grin. “I’ll also pack our things once I’m below deck. Toiletries and things of that sort. Less for you to do later.”_ _

__“Don’t pick up anything that’s heavy,” Will says before he realizes it sounds condescending. “Sorry,” he amends._ _

__“It’s fine, Will,” he sooths with a chuckle. “I would have hovered over you during your convalescence as well.”_ _

__“You did. You made me fancy chicken soup,” Will laughs._ _

__“Out of guilt. I regretted what I did to you, but by then it was too late,” Hannibal admits quietly. “You were incarcerated, and I had believed that you meant nothing, that I could live perfectly well without you in my life, distracting me and taking up my time. Once you were out of my reach, I was quite miserable. I’d sit in my empty office during our regularly scheduled appointment times, and ache for your company. I missed your insolent tone, your sass. I missed looking at you, rumpled and surly as you paced my office, sitting inappropriately on the edge of my desk. I don’t know what you’ve done to me, Will Graham.”_ _

__“You make me sound like I was a real catch,” Will teases, but his tone is fond._ _

__“You were,” Hannibal smiles. “There were times you would look at me, your expression so soft and trusting that you provoked a protective instinct in me, one I was certain was long gone with my sister. One such occasion was the night you barged into my home to tell me you’d kissed Alana Bloom. Your face as you looked at me in my kitchen that night, so sweet and trusting. I wanted to split my chest open and protect you from the world. I was so angered by it that I set you after Tobias out of spite. I figured if I couldn’t bring myself to be rid of you, then he could do it for me.”_ _

__“How romantic,” Will deadpanned._ _

__“It wasn’t. When I was informed that the officers that went to his home were killed, I was devastated. When you walked into my office, I was so relieved I think I cried upon seeing you.”_ _

__“You did,” Will teases. “Although I thought it was because you were in pain.”_ _

__“I was, just not physical pain,” Hannibal admits softly. “The thought that I had sent you to your death made me feel ill. Seeing you walk in, alive and breathing, made me realize you had wormed your way in further than I’d imagined.”_ _

__“You know I still don’t like being called sweet or soft,” Will says with a chuckle._ _

__Hannibal stands slowly, one hand pressed to his side with the movement. “Do you find that I can be sweet on occasion? Or soft in others?”_ _

__Will thinks on that, mulling over the time he brought him chicken soup in the hospital, and the disgustingly sweet words he spoke to Will upon seeing him in the Uffizi gallery all those years ago. “You can be,” Will admits carefully. “There’s always an edge to it, though.”_ _

__“You bring out the best, and the very worst in me, sometimes. It’s not offensive to be considered a sweet man, Will.”_ _

__“Please don’t,” he sighs. “I just… it’s what she called me, and I don’t care for it.”_ _

__“I’ll drop it, then. Breakfast?”_ _

__“Please,” Wills says, looking out over the ocean and away from Hannibal._ _

__Will watches him from the corner of his eye as he descends the stairs, letting out a breath once he’s gone. He’s not sure what Hannibal is trying to prove with the admission that he can be sweet or soft. Both terms set his teeth on edge, for some reason. He hates the idea that anyone thinks he doesn’t have teeth. That he’s a poor thing who can’t fend for himself. He knows, distantly, that Hannibal doesn’t see him that way. He knows Hannibal embraces all the facets of Will that he offers up. His becoming has left him exposed, and in that exposure, there’s bound to be some vulnerability. It’s strange to allow someone to see him fully, with no need to hide anything behind a mask or manipulation._ _

__It’s freeing, and also terrifying. Hannibal might know him better than anyone, but if Will was finally himself, in every sense of the word, and Hannibal didn’t care for it…_ _

__Then he’d be rejecting Will for exactly who he was, not for the person suit he’d be wearing._ _

__It made him feel defenseless._ _

__Hannibal emerges some time later with two plates of semi-fresh fruit and bacon, as well as stale toast slathered in butter. He grins as he takes the plate, arching his eyebrow at Hannibal playfully. “It must kill you to hand me a plate like this,” he laughs._ _

__The little moue of distaste on the older man’s mouth says more than anything else, and Hannibal sighs. “I look forward to getting on land and buying fresh produce, yes.”_ _

__Despite the presentation, it tastes good, and eating in the warm sunshine with Hannibal feels better than he’s felt in weeks._ _

__Hannibal goes below deck at two to take his medicine and begin packing bags, while Will adjusts the boat in the direction of the marina where Hannibal says is closest to where his home is. It’s only a few hours later when he sees Cuba in the distance, and his heart slams in his chest as he realizes he’s started the first chapter of his new life, free of all the anchors and lines keeping him tethered to his old one._ _

__He’s happy, and the stretch of his crooked smile feels strange on his face._ _


	8. Chapter 8

_  
“The heat rose up my neck, wrapped fingers over my face. His hair fell around me, and I could smell nothing but him. The grain of his lips seemed to rest a hairsbreadth from mine.”  
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles_

He pulls into the marina, finding an open spot to tie his boat, before heading below deck to get dressed and finish packing the fridge.

Hannibal is dressed impeccably in a white tee shirt and gray slacks, and Will’s mouth goes dry looking at his arms as they test out the limits of the sleeves of the tee shirt. “Wow, you clean up nice.”

“I couldn’t manage a belt,” Hannibal says distastefully. “It was chafing.”

“What ever will people think?” Will teases while he packs the fridge into bags. “I think I’ll come back tomorrow for everything we don’t need. We’ll just take enough to get dinner started tonight.”

They take a quick glance around the boat, each carrying a few bags as they leave it behind. Hannibal finds an attendant for the dock, speaking to him quickly in fluent Spanish that makes Will’s mouth drop open. He knew that Hannibal was fluent in a few languages, but it was a shock to see it put in action.

“I’m purchasing the spot where you’ve docked, it’ll be ours in just a moment,” he calls to Will while handing a wad of cash to the attendant.

Will nods, shifting the duffle bag and grocery bags in his arms while he waits. The sun is blaring hot, here, and he’s sweating profusely. 

They make their way up the dock, grabbing a taxi at the end as Hannibal spews off the directions to the house. Will has never been further south than Florida, and he’s in love with the city already. While he’s not one for crowds, he understands why Hannibal would choose to hide here. All these people would aid them in blending in. They’d likely not even notice.

“Miramar is a quiet neighborhood outside Havana,” Hannibal tells him on the drive there. “It’s more suburban, and much more… upscale than the inner-city life.”

Will reaches out and threads their fingers together across the seat, earning himself a surprised smile from Hannibal as he does. Hannibal takes their entwined fingers and brings them to his mouth, kissing the back of Will’s hand. Will’s not even interested in the unfamiliar sights passing by the windows, he’s just looking at the man sitting across from him in the backseat of a dirty cab that smells of stale cigarettes and body odor. “You’re beautiful,” Will tells him, and he means it. The sallowness of his skin is gone, replaced with a lightly bronzed tone from spending time with Will above deck. He looks healthy, and the thought lifts a weight from Will’s shoulders that he didn’t know he’d been carrying.

“I’m unaccustomed to you being so openly affectionate,” Hannibal admits softly, his mouth quirked in a small grin. “You’ve told me I’m beautiful twice, now. It’s not generally a word used to describe another man.”

“I don’t know how else to describe what I see when I look at you.” Will abandons his hand in preference of touching Hannibal’s strong thigh. “I just like you to know what I’m thinking. Would you prefer I say you’re handsome?”

“It admittedly loses something in the translation, doesn’t it?” Hannibal laughs. “No, I don’t prefer that. I find you beautiful, too.”

“Molly used to tell me I was a beautiful man,” Will grimaces. “She’d say it like I was in a boy band.”

“Then she and I have undeniably different perspectives of your beauty,” Hannibal chuckles.

The cab turns into a neighborhood that has well spread out mansions, and Will turns to Hannibal with pursed lips. “Tell me you don’t find this to be suburban, Hannibal.”

Hannibal shrugs. “It’s probably not the right word, but it’s certainly not urban.”

“Is it a mansion, Hannibal? I don’t want to live in a mansion,” he sighs. The cab pulls up a long, long, driveway, and Will groans at the house at the end of it. 

It’s classic Spanish style, but hardly modest with two stories and large windows. It’s perfectly manicured lawn sprawls endlessly, leading up to the home that’s definitely bigger than two people need.

He climbs out of the cab as Hannibal pays the fare, cricking his neck to look up at the enormous house in front of him. The front door is gleaming mahogany, and it’s almost twice his height. The grandiosity of the home makes Will frown, but he tries to keep it to himself. Where they lived didn’t matter as much as who he lived with. 

Will takes a look around as they enter the foyer, because he lives in a home that has a foyer, now. It’s a huge space, covered with marble flooring and large windows, the staircase to upstairs leading to a balcony that made the foyer’s ceilings as high as the roof of the house. Their steps echoed in this room, and Will wasn’t sure he liked it.

They head towards the large kitchen, which is state of the art, equipped with stainless steel appliances and dark cabinets, white marble countertops gleam along the counters and large island. Hannibal sets the few bags he was carrying on the counter, turning to Will with a grimace of pain as he holds his side. “What do you think, Will?”

Will walks around the kitchen carefully, touching the counters and taking in the high, exposed-beam, ceilings. “It’s… ostentatious.”

Hannibal bites back a grin. “I know you don’t care for it. This is very temporary, Will. We can sell and live anywhere you’d like. We’ll buy a home more suited to our combined tastes once I’ve recovered.”

“It’s a beautiful home, Hannibal,” he says slowly, and he means it. “It’s just not something I’d pick. I feel like you’d hate anything I’d pick.”

“I like my space. If we are to adopt an array of stray dogs in the future, I’m afraid I must insist on a spacious home.”

Will laughs, coming around the side of the island to wrap his arms around Hannibal gently. “You know dogs have fur, and feet that track in dirt,” he chuckles, pressing his mouth to Hannibal’s throat.

“Do they? I’ve also heard they defecate in the house, on occasion.”

“Maybe initially, but none of my dogs ever went number one or two in the house,” Will says pridefully. “Ours won’t, either. The fur and feet, though, I can’t help you with that.”

Hannibal sighs, tipping Will’s head up to press his lips against his softly before pulling away. “I’ll suffer through their feet and fur because they make you happy, Will. I’d like you to see my home in Narbonne. It’s in southern France, and I think that home would please you greatly. It’s not a mansion, and it’s near a stream. The surrounding area is wooded, mostly. It’s very private. Unfortunately for you, I have a pool there, too.”

“Why do you say unfortunately?” Will asks with a chuckle. “I like pools.”

“It was your tone, I suppose. When I told you of the pool on your boat, you sounded… wary,” Hannibal admits, leaning against the counter tiredly. 

Will unpacks the majority of the refrigerator items, then picks up their duffle bags with their clothes. “It’s going to take some getting used to. I’ve never lived like this,” he says softly. “I think you should lay down for a little while, we’ve had a really long day.”

Hannibal is using the countertop to hold himself up, and he nods. “I’ll show you the bedrooms,” he offers.

They head out towards the foyer, and go up the stairs slowly. The balcony leads down towards a large hallway that has four doors along it, and Will knows already that if they went the other direction, there would likely be as many doors on the other end of the hallway as well. 

Hannibal stops at the first door, turning to Will cautiously. “This was meant to be your room,” he says quietly. “I’d prefer it if you were to stay with me, though.”

“I don’t want my own room, Hannibal,” Will tells him while maintaining eye contact. “We’re not roommates.”

“Would you care to see it, regardless?”

“No,” Will shakes his head. “Show me our room, please.”

Hannibal nods and heads down the hall to the last door. The master bedroom is huge, roughly the size of the entire living area and kitchen of his house in Wolf Trap. The room is done tastefully in dark woods and gold accents, cream white and emerald green used for accents. The enormous bed takes up almost no room in the vast space, and there’s an emerald green chaise lounge in the corner of the room by the large window that overlooks the backyard. 

Hannibal shows him the walk-in closets, mostly empty, save for a few suits and slacks, with plenty of room for whatever Will ends up owning. He takes him across the room and shows him the master bath, which is all white quartz and gold and navy accents. There’s a massive soaker tub along one wall, and a walk-in shower that looks more like a car wash than a shower. Will unpacks his tiny bag of toiletries, and Hannibal chuckles. “There’s bar soaps in the closet, Will. There should be toothbrushes and everything else we’d need in there, too.”

“Your property manager buys you soaps and shit? Why is that weird to me.”

“Chiyoh stayed here after my incarceration for a time,” Hannibal admits quietly. “My lawyer stayed in touch with her after I requested that she find somewhere comfortable to stay. He let me know that she’d keep the properties that I have mostly stocked in case I ever… needed them.”

Hannibal shucks his shoes off at the foot of the bed, climbing into the sheets with a weary sigh. “You trust your lawyer to not tell people about your properties? That seems risky,” Will says while he unpacks his meager amount of clothes and puts them on the dresser. 

“My lawyer has certain proclivities that he’d rather the world not know about. I know about them, and in exchange for my silence and money, he will do whatever I need without question.”

Will grimaces at that, watching as Hannibal’s breathing evens out. He looks exhausted, so Will leaves the room quietly and decides to give himself the tour. Curiosity gets to him, so he does peek into his designated bedroom, noting the lovely soft blue of the walls and the pretty cream accents. He goes to the closet, just to see, and his mouth falls open when he finds a few suits and button downs, all tailored pieces that are clearly for Will. Will wonders how the hell Hannibal got his measurements, but decides it’s the least of the weird, intimate, shit that Hannibal takes it upon himself to know about Will.

The opposite end of the hallway has two more bedrooms, both generically sterile and devoid of specific color. There’s another bathroom up here, and while beautiful, it lacks the grandiosity of the master bathroom.

Once back downstairs, he finds a massive dining area off the kitchen. It’s… not Will’s taste, with the dark wood of the table and moody, downcast lighting. The walls are the color of red wine, and the ineffectual light makes it look like blood.

He crosses the foyer to the other side of the house and finds a living area as well as a formal living area, both tied together effortlessly with furniture that Will wouldn’t choose for himself. There’s an archway leading off the main living area, and Will makes a noise in his throat when he finds the study.

It’s beautiful, and Will has already decided it’s his favorite room in the house. It’s endless built-in bookcases in rich, dark wood are packed with old novels and tasteful decorations. They line every wall that doesn’t have a window from floor to ceiling, and the scent in the room is old books and lacquered wood. There’s a large desk angled from the corner of the room, as well as a dark green, over-sized sofa. There are a few well-placed armchairs and end tables scattered through-out, placed where lighting is better. 

He wanders the bookshelves, touching the old spines and noting their titles, although they vary in so many languages that Will only recognizes about four of them. 

He heads back to the kitchen and decides to figure out something for dinner. He’s got semi-defrosted ground beef, and a few potatoes and carrots. A shepherd’s pie, then.

He knows it’s not something Hannibal will love, but there isn’t any more chicken, and there isn’t anything more creative he can come up with. He seasons the meat well with garlic and onions, and he butters the mashed potatoes well. It smells good, he thinks, as he pops the stoneware dish into the oven to brown up. 

In the meantime, he handwashes the dirty dishes he’s made, avoiding the dishwasher for reasons he’s not sure about. He’s never owned one, and he’s not really sure just how dirty a pan can be when you put it in there. 

Handwashing is safer.

He dries all the dishes he’s made, putting them away exactly where he found them, and cleans the counters of the mess he made while cooking. By the time he’s finished, he shuts the oven off and takes the casserole dish from it, letting it rest on the counter.

“It smells good,” Hannibal says from the doorway of the kitchen looking sleep-rumpled and over-tired.

“It’s all that we have left to eat. It’s just shepherd’s pie, not very creative. You can make a shopping list and I’ll grab whatever we need tomorrow.”

Will plates their dinner, taking both to the kitchen island to avoid the crimson nightmare of a dining room. Hannibal settles into the seat beside him, his shoulders slumped. “I don’t know why I’m so exhausted,” he sighs while rubbing his face with long fingers.

“You never napped today,” Will tells him. “You’re still healing. The next few days I’d like it if you just laid in bed and did nothing else.”

Hannibal takes a few bites of his food as though he’s not tasting it. “How ridiculous that I need naps like an infant.”

“Okay, that’s enough of that,” Will says while turning his body towards Hannibal. “You don’t need to nap like an infant. You need to nap like someone who’s died twice. Besides that, the damn bed looked so comfortable I considered doing the same thing as you, but I was starving so, sad dinner instead.”

“It’s not sad, Will,” Hannibal smiles and it reaches his eyes. “You did your best with the limited ingredients you had. It’s well-seasoned, and it’s nutritious. It’s good. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“When you’re feeling better, I’d like to cook with you,” Will admits softly, taking another bite of his dinner. “I want to know your recipes and be able to make them. I want you to teach me all the different ways of chopping things, and how to make a pie crust from scratch.” Will is blushing by the time he’s finished talking, and he stares resolutely at his food to avoid eye contact.

Hannibal looks so pleased that it makes Will laugh. “Such sweet, innocent, desires that you long for,” he teases. 

“I wouldn’t say they run in the vein of sweet or innocent,” Will admits, looking back up to Hannibal’s face. “I imagine you standing close behind me while I’m holding a knife, your hand over mine as we chop random vegetables. I imagine you pressed so tightly to me that I can feel your breath on my ear, and your lips against my throat. I imagine the skin of your forearms as they peek out from rolled-up button down sleeves. I know I wouldn’t be absorbing a thing you’re teaching me, because the feel of your cock against my ass would be so distracting that all I’d be able to do is press against it. Dinner isn’t the thing I’m fantasizing about, Hannibal.”

Hannibal’s swallow is audible in the quiet kitchen while he stares at Will, his eyes dipping down to his mouth briefly. “What of the pie crust fantasy?”

“Oh,” Will laughs. “I just really, really, like strawberry rhubarb pie. I can make the filling like a real southern pro, but my crusts suck.”

Hannibal’s laugh echoes in the kitchen, and he leans forward to kiss Will fully on the mouth. “You’re a ridiculous creature,” he says affectionately.

“I picture the same idea when I imagine our first real kill together,” he says carefully. “Maybe it says something about my specific pathology that I want your erection against me while I cut organs from someone’s body, but fuck. I do.”

Hannibal’s mouth twists briefly, his eyes flicking away. “I’d prefer to keep those two activities as separate as we can.”

“Fuck,” Will sighs. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Hannibal says quickly. “I’m not denying what you’re admitting to me hasn’t crossed my mind. I don’t know if I should tell you how hard I was before you pulled us over the cliff. Your scent was like a lightening strike, and you were against me covered in blood, and all I wanted was to bury myself inside of you. I’m not sure what to do with these specific reactions. I’ve never killed with someone else like that, nor have I ever become aroused while killing. It was… troubling. I’d prefer to keep them separate. That’s not to say that once we return home, we can’t find our pleasure. Just not at the scene. It’s all I ask.”

“It wouldn’t be the dead body that was getting to me, Hannibal,” Will says defensively. “It would be that we were sharing something so intimate, together. It would be the idea of the hot press of your vitality against me while I still the beating heart of someone else with my bare hands. It’s kind of a fucked up God complex, I think.”

“Do you find pleasure in the idea of me hurting you while we’re intimate?”

Will grimaces at that, turning his face away from Hannibal. “No. I don’t want your hands causing me pain. Not in any BDSM way.”

“Good,” Hannibal sighs, and Will looks back to him in surprise. “I don’t want that, either. I’d do it, if that’s what you wanted, though.”

“Do you have conversations about boundaries with everyone you’ve bedded?” Will laughs.

Hannibal chuckles, taking a sip of his water. “Not like this, no. I only asked because your fantasies regarding me used to tend towards the violent end of the spectrum. Does the idea of choking me or cutting me still intrigue you?”

Will clears his throat, a blush rising in his cheeks as he does. “Those fantasies weren’t sexual, Jesus. I was pissed off at you, and while I didn’t actually want to kill you for any of it, fantasies are free, as they say.”

“I’m relieved to hear that, as well,” Hannibal chuckles.

“Okay, so we’re not into fucking in front of corpses or cutting each other while fucking. Nice to hear we do in fact have some boundaries.”

“You do so have a way with words,” Hannibal teases, pressing his fingers into the nape of Will’s neck.

“I, uh, do have a kind of… uh, fantasy, I guess,” Will stammers while blushing hotly.

This gets Hannibal’s attention, as the older man turns in his seat with wide eyes. “Should I be concerned?”

“I don’t know,” Will laughs. “Fuck, why did I say anything.”

“Tell me, Will,” Hannibal encourages him, gliding his thumb along his jawline as he does.

Will groans, tipping his eyes downward and away. “I want you, at some point when you’re feeling better… to uh… to…”

“Yes?” Hannibal encourages with an eager arch of his eyebrow.

“I want you to make me come until I can’t. We’d need a safe word, probably. I want you to make me come so many times that it hurts. I want your mouth and your hands and your cock on me until I’m begging you to stop touching me. I want to see how long that would take.”

Hannibal’s mouth falls open with the request, his cheeks tinging pink in surprise. “Have you ever asked someone for this before me?”

“Fuck no,” Will laughs. “I’ve never wanted it before you.”

“That’s not a request you should be embarrassed about wanting,” Hannibal says slowly while touching the flush on his cheeks with the back of his hand. “I wish I could do it now. I can smell you aching for me, and all I feel is frustration because I am too tired to respond.”

Will blushes, adjusting himself in his seat. “I’m sorry. God, I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me. It’s like all these years of denying it has created a monster.”

“One I will take great pleasure in taming, my love. I’m relieved you haven’t asked anyone to do that with you. I would have killed your wife, Will. I would have killed her if you had done that with her.”

Will grunts, tipping his eyes away again. “I don’t think I’ve ever even had sex with her with the lights on. She didn’t like my scars, she said they made her uncomfortable to see them. We definitely never went twice in the same night. It was very vanilla, Hannibal,” he chuckles.

“Then it’s settled,” Hannibal says while standing up to put his plate in the sink. “When I keep you coming for hours, it’ll be during the day with the windows and curtains wide open. I want to see your skin against soft sheets and warm daylight, with the flush of over-stimulation making you pink and wanton. Fuck, Will. The things you do to me.”

Will presses a palm to himself discretely under the countertop, trying to relieve the tension he’s feeling even marginally. “That goes both ways,” he admits, his voice dipping slightly with the friction of his palm.

“Let’s go to bed, please. I’d like to try something that I’ve been curious about.”

“Take your pills,” Will tells him, noting that it’s just after ten. “I’ll get the leftovers in the fridge while you do.”

Hannibal nods and heads up the stairs to the master bathroom to take his meds, while Will hurries through stuffing the leftovers in the fridge and soaking the plates in the sink. 

When he comes into the bedroom, Hannibal is emerging from the bathroom wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, and Will’s cock twitches at the sight of all his lovely muscles and skin.

“I’ve got to use the bathroom, but I’ll be right back,” Will says softly.

Hannibal sits gently on the side of the bed, sliding his feet under the covers. “Don’t take too long, I’ve taken two pain pills and sleep comes quickly after that.”

Will nods and retreats into the bathroom to relieve himself and brush his teeth. The room still smells minty from Hannibal doing the same.

He considers, briefly, heading back into the bedroom with his clothes on. He’s feeling bold, though, so he strips himself naked before walking out into the bedroom.

Hannibal sighs as he looks at him, his eyes trailing appreciatively over Will’s body. “Come to bed, Will. Don’t get under the covers.”

Will climbs into the bed, laying flat on his back beside Hannibal who twists his body to look at Will. “What was it that you’re curious about?”

“I want you to touch yourself while I watch you,” Hannibal admits, his voice dark with longing. “I want you to come from my voice. Can you do that?”

Will moans in response, his hand reaching absently for his dick before deciding against it. “Yes,” he says desperately.

“Good,” Hannibal praises him. He leans forward and drags their mouths together, tasting Will’s tongue softly with his own as his hands slide down Will’s torso affectionately. He pulls away reluctantly, sitting back in his own space as Will licks the flavor of him from his lips. “You may do whatever you want, but you’ll respond when I speak, or you’ll stop. Understood?”

Will nods eagerly, wrapping his fingers around himself and squeezing gently. “Yes,” he moans. 

“When I’m making you come for hours, what is it that you’re imagining? Me fucking you or you fucking me?”

Will moans through the thought, his fist working his head gently. “I’m thinking about you fucking me,” he admits breathily.

“My cock inside of you. Have you ever stimulated your prostate, Will?”

Will tugs his cock roughly, shaking his head. “N-no,” he admits, tugging one of his nipples gently while his other hand rolls his balls. 

“I plan to do so many times,” Hannibal tells him, his voice dark and silky while his eyes slide over Will’s body. “I will have your cock in my mouth while my fingers scissor you open. I can’t wait to feel the tight heat of your body around me. I will make it so pleasurable, Will, that you won’t know what to do aside from come down my throat.”

“Fuck,” Will sighs, arching his back as he tips his head to look at Hannibal. 

“Once you come, do I allow you to recover at all?”

Will lets out an embarrassingly high noise from the back of his throat, “No, no you don’t.”

“Good,” Hannibal says quietly. “You come down my throat, and I take my fingers from inside of you and replace them with my cock while my fingers replace my mouth. Have you ever touched yourself after you’ve finished? Have you ever pushed yourself towards a second orgasm?”

“Yes,” Will sighs, gripping himself tightly to keep from coming at the thought. “A few times. It… it hurts, but it’s good.”

“It does hurt, doesn’t it? Until it doesn’t,” Hannibal purrs. “A second orgasm from fucking yourself with your hands would be a dry orgasm, but with prostate stimulation, it wouldn’t be. You’d be leaking the entire time, and I would drag my fingers through it and press them into your mouth so you could see how delicious you are.”

“Oh fuck,” Will cries, arching his back as he jerks himself roughly. Hannibal groans to his side, reaching out despite himself to touch Will’s jaw. 

“You are so beautiful. Your skin and your eyes, the shape of your jaw. There is nothing more beautiful to me than your shape,” Hannibal says softly as Will moans. “When I’m burying myself inside you as deeply as I can go, my hands on your skin and my mouth on yours, it still won’t be enough. I look forward to being recovered, my love, because your fantasy is my own. I want to gorge myself on your flesh until we both can’t lift a finger. I want to be so sated by your skin against mine that I can’t manage a thought other than the taste of you on my tongue. Do you think it’s possible?” Hannibal's voice was so deep and gravelly, the timber like a physical caress. Will felt like he could drown in the sound of his voice alone. 

“N-no,” Will moans, tipping his hips up as he thrusts harshly into his fist. “Not enough, never.”

“I ache to fill you with my seed. To feel the hot constriction of your muscles around me as you finish. I want to know your scent once I’ve marked you as my own. I’ll keep it inside you once I’ve finished by fingering you with my come.”

“Fuck, fuck,” Will cries as he spills over his fingers, hot ropes of come landing across his abdomen as he continues jerking himself. Hannibal leans over his stomach, licking gently at the come there and Will moans as he continues thrusting into his fist, his toes curling against the mattress as he does.

He eventually takes his hand off of himself as he pants against the mattress, his body covered in a sheen of sweat. “Wow,” he says with a chuckle.

“I’d never need to go to the opera again if I could have a performance like that in my bed every night.” Hannibal's eyes are glittering as they look at him, his eyes sliding appreciatively over Will's spent body. 

Will laughs, covering his face with his clean hand. “I did make a few noises that would put a soprano to shame,” he chuckles.

Hannibal laughs, and the gesture shakes the bed. “It was lovely, Will. I am flattered that you find my voice so pleasing.”

“I find all of you so pleasing,” Will admits with a crooked grin. “Are you… did you get, uh… do you want help with anything?”

“After two pain pills, Will? No,” he says regretfully. “I should have waited to take them.”

Will climbs from the bed to clean himself up quickly, and when he comes back, Hannibal is already dozing. He climbs into the sheets and shifts himself over so that he’s pressed against Hannibal’s side, stirring the older man back to consciousness. “Sorry,” he says as he settles against him, wrapping an arm around his middle. He tips his face up and presses a kiss to his jaw, and Hannibal chuckles, tucking an arm around his shoulders and holding him tightly.

Will drifts off to the sound of his breathing and the scent of his skin, and he’s content.


	9. Chapter 9

_“The rosy gleam of his lip, the fevered gleam of his eyes. There was not a line anywhere on his face, nothing creased or graying; all crisp. He was spring, golden and bright. Envious death would drink his blood, and grow young again.”  
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles_

Will wakes up late the next morning, and he sits up abruptly when he realizes he’s alone in bed. It’s late in the morning, and he knows it by the high slant of sunlight through the windows. “Shit,” he mumbles as he climbs from the bed. He tugs on a pair of shorts from Hannibal’s drawer, and jogs down the stairs into the kitchen.

Hannibal is sitting at the kitchen island sipping a cup of coffee. He’s wearing a white tee shirt and gray slacks, looking well put-together. He’s freshly showered and shaved, and the smell of him hits Will like a brick. He’s wearing cologne, and it’s the same cologne that he wore all those years ago.

“Christ,” Will sighs as he walks directly to Hannibal, who seems amused as Will wraps his arms around his waist and presses his face to his throat to inhale directly from the source.

“Good morning to you, too,” Hannibal teases as he tips Will’s head up from the crook of his neck, pressing his lips to Will’s sweetly.

“You smell so fucking good, it’s the same shit you wore in Baltimore,” Will mumbles against his lips, pressing kisses and nipping gently.

“This shit, as you call it, is made in Italy. A custom scent,” he says proudly. “Scent is the most closely linked with memory of all the senses. Certain odors take a direct route from the olfactory bulb to the amygdala and hippocampus; both regions related to memory and emotion. A specific scent can recall a memory more effectively than touch, or taste.”

“You must be feeling better since I’m getting a lecture before coffee,” Will teases as he presses his face to Hannibal’s throat again. “Cedar, citrus… something else, too,” Will sighs, nipping gently against Hannibal’s throat.

“Sandalwood, green tea,” Hannibal continues. “There are other scents too, but they’re light musks.”

“The thing about your office in Baltimore that was the most soothing for me was that your scent was permeated in that room. Everything smelled like you. It was like… drowning in you for an hour. I imagined your bedroom would smell like that, too. I never got to find out, though.”

“Such a shame that you never voiced that desire. You’d have found out immediately if you had,” Hannibal chuckles while his fingers trail down Will’s bare spine.

Will shivers as he pulls away, the lure of coffee almost more than the scent of the delicious man against him. “I would never have said that to you. Christ, I couldn’t even look you in the eyes at that point.”

“You still can’t, sometimes. It’s still infuriatingly charming,” Hannibal smirks, taking a careful sip from his coffee mug.

Will makes himself a coffee, gulping it down appreciatively. “Even the coffee is good. I’m in a good mood today, I guess. Did you wake up in time to take your pills?”

“Around seven,” Hannibal says with a shrug. “It’s fine. I’m almost done with the course of antibiotics. Two more days should be far more than necessary.”

“That’s good,” Will grins. “How’s your pain?”

“I woke up today and have been able to manage it with only Motrin. There is no pain while I’m sitting here. However, I am planning to do some walking around. I’ll likely need my pain pills tonight.”

“I’ve got to go get some groceries today, and I’ve got to go clean out the boat,” Will sighs. “Are you okay here by yourself for a bit?”

“Of course,” Hannibal says offensively. “I’m most likely going to walk back and forth in the house, and then take a nap. Nothing that I’d need a babysitter to do.”

“Don’t be a jerk,” Will chuckles. “You know what I mean. Make me a grocery list while I go shower. I’ll come back with the groceries before I head down to the marina so we can eat something.”

Will chugs the rest of his coffee and ditches the cup in the sink. Before he heads upstairs, he presses a kiss to Hannibal’s cheek, which earns him a gentle smile from the older man in return.

He heads into the room that was supposed to be his and digs out a soft blue tee shirt and gray shorts, before heading to the master bathroom.

The shower is completely ridiculous, he feels like he’s standing in a car wash. Jets come from all angles, and he’s diddling with the controls more than he’s washing up.

His soaps and shampoos smell divine, and he lathers up a few times just enjoying the scent of the suds. 

Once out of the shower, he stands at the bathroom sink and decides he’d shave, too. Instead of just trimming, he shaves his face clean, taking care to avoid nicking his cheek scar. It’s far more noticeable, now, and Will feels slightly self-conscious about it being so exposed. The complete lack of facial hair makes him look younger, though, but he’s not sure he likes that, either. 

There are two bottles of aftershave in the drawer, and Will takes the black bottle out and smells it.

The scent of Hannibal almost knocks him out, and he considers using it. He wonders what Hannibal would say to Will marking himself with his scent that way.

He takes the other clear bottle and sniffs it. It smells so light and clean that he’s momentarily surprised by it. It’s not musky or manly, really. No leather or cedar scents in it at all. It smells like soap and clean laundry, and Will wonders if this is what Hannibal picked for him.

He’s holding both bottles, and his nerves are wracking him as he decides.

Fuck it.

He tucks the clear bottle back into the drawer, and slaps his cheeks with Hannibal’s aftershave, sighing as the scent of the older man settles over him like a fog. 

He gets dressed in the clothes that Hannibal picked out for him all those years ago, struggling a bit to get the slim-fit shorts over his hips. He had put on a little weight in his marriage, but that would be rectified soon. He’d never again have to worry about his body being in shape to save Hannibal’s life. Not if he could help it. 

He heads downstairs and Hannibal is making himself another cup of coffee when Will walks into the kitchen. His hands pause as he looks up at Will, his mouth gone slack. “You’ve shaved your face.”

“Yeah,” Will chuckles as he comes around the counter to wrap his arms around Hannibal again. Hannibal stiffens as he scents Will, his eyes dipping down to his mouth.

Hannibal is on him in a moment, his mouth slamming over Will’s own while his hands grasp at Will’s waist, tugging him closer. Will is shocked, and it takes a moment to respond, but he does once he gets his bearings. Hannibal’s hands trail low, cupping his ass and dragging him against his body roughly, and Will pulls away in fear of something going too far and causing Hannibal undue pain.

“What-,” Will starts, panting as he adjusts himself in his small shorts. “What was that?” He laughs.

“You come downstairs wearing clothes that I’ve picked for you. You look like you’ve poured yourself in those shorts. You’re clean shaven, looking youthful and unabashedly beautiful. Your eyes are the same color as the shirt you’re wearing. As if all of that isn’t enough, you’re wearing my aftershave. I know you’d have found yours right next to it, so it was a conscious decision that you made to torture me.”

“I didn’t do any of this to torture you,” Will chuckles. “The shorts are not my fault, I’ve put on a little weight that I’m planning to lose. And the aftershave was a decision I made because I wouldn’t be with you for most of the day. I want something of you with me while I’m gone.”

Hannibal leans forward to nip at his naked jawline, and Will tips his head to allow it. “You’re a tease, Will Graham.”

“Yeah,” Will grins as Hannibal takes the bait, trailing wet kisses down the side of his throat. Hannibal tugs the collar over a bit so he can nip at Will’s collar bone. Will moans low in his throat, giving into it for a moment while Hannibal laves him in attention. His other hand has worked its way around his waist to come back to his ass, gripping the flesh there greedily.

“Hannibal,” Will sighs, thrusting gently against his thigh that’s wedged between his legs. “I’ve got… I have so much to do, and you really should be… this is…”

“Your ability to articulate thought dwindles in direct correlation to my mouth and hands on you,” Hannibal chuckles. “It’s lovely.”

“Now who’s being a tease?” Will laughs, pressing backwards and away from the temptation of Hannibal’s mouth and hands. “We need food, or I’ll die. Would you like to come shopping with me?”

Hannibal mulls that over for a moment, tugging his top lip between his teeth. “I think I would, actually. Only shopping, though. I won’t make it to clean the boat, even though I wish I could help you with it.”

“That’s okay, taking care of my boat is a hobby, not a chore. Should I call a cab?”

Hannibal gives him a long look. “I take it you haven’t wandered into the garage, then.”

“No,” Will laughs. “I haven’t.”

They go out a side door that’s off the kitchen area, and Will sighs at the dusty Bentley in the garage. “Would it kill you to drive something less ostentatious?”

“It might,” Hannibal admits with a grin as he hands the keys to Will. “I’ve no intention of finding out.”

Will is surprised the car turns over, after all this time sitting in a garage. “The property manager starts it now and again, I think.”

“I’m taking it that they have no idea who actually owns this house, then?” Will asks as he backs out of the driveway. The car might be a showboat, but it sure was a nice ride.

“Of course, she doesn’t,” Hannibal grins. “You’ll want to take a left, here. There’s a nice, upscale market in our neighborhood. I’ll have to call her to cancel her monthly visits for now. We wouldn’t want her poking around while we’re living here.”

Only a few moments later Will is pulling into a pretentious supermarket, and he glances at Hannibal while making a face. “This looks like a Spanish Trader Joe’s,” Will laughs.

“I suppose, in a way, it is,” Hannibal says airily. “It’s air conditioned, at least.”

Once inside, Will is glad that Hannibal came with him. He’s putting things in the carriage that Will doesn’t even recognize as food, let alone things they needed. He essentially buys out the spices section, and picks up a few live plant herbs from the front end of the store. The carriage is absolutely stuffed as they’re making their way to the check-out, and Will touches his arm. “Wait, I want to check something really quick.”

Hannibal nods, resting his forearms against the carriage as Will takes off down the personal care aisle. He finds what he needs by the condoms and picks up a few bottles.

Hannibal smirks as Will returns with his arms full of bottles of lube, and Will blushes to his hairline as he sets them down in the carriage. “We’ll need it eventually, so…”

“It’s not the purchase that is amusing, but rather the… quantity that makes me curious.”

“You should be curious,” Will says softly while they wait in the grocery line. “When you’re ready, we won’t have time to go find someone worthy of us. Not for a long, long, time.”

“Is that your plan? To distract me with carnality to avoid my baser instincts?” Hannibal asks it with genuine curiosity in his voice.

“No,” Will laughs. “My plan is to make up for all these years that we’ve lost in the span of about a week. That’s about as devious as it gets. I have no desire to distract you from your baser instincts after that.”

As they’re finishing cashing out, one of the baggers who assumed neither of them spoke Spanish turned to the cashier and muttered, “ _muerdealmohadas_ ,” with a laugh.

Hannibal’s stiffened posture suggested that whatever it was, it wasn’t a compliment. Hannibal turns to the kid, his face murderous. “ _Se necesita ser uno para conocer a otro, ¿cierto_?”

The kid stammers for a minute, and Will places a hand against Hannibal’s back to urge him to walk-on. They leave the store, and Will’s face is hot as he looks at Hannibal, wondering if that kid said something that would get him displayed in a few months. 

Hannibal climbs into the car without a word as Will loads the trunk, and Will’s hands are shaking with the realization that whatever just happened is more than Hannibal needs to find provocation to murder someone.

He climbs into the driver’s seat and starts the car, cranking the AC as he does. “What did he say, Hannibal?”

“He called us pillow biters,” Hannibal spits, his fists clenching on his thighs.

“Oh,” Will replies awkwardly. “Well, he’s not wrong. We bought forty gallons of lube to prove it.”

“It’s meant in a derogatory way, Will. It doesn’t matter if we do or do not, my love for you is not a joke. He might do well to consider his words, next time,” Hannibal grits out.

“What did you say to him in response?”

“I said, ‘it takes one to know one, right’?”

“See?” Will says soothingly as he pulls out of the parking lot. “You handled it. Let that kid wonder if he’s a pillow biter, too.”

“I’d like to display him with his own cock stuffed in his mouth for all the world to see.”

Will sighs, “Please don’t do that. Jesus, Hannibal.”

“The world is full of people like that. People who think they can talk to anyone however they want, can treat people however they want. Their actions have no consequence. One of these days, that boy will say something to someone who is at the end of their rope, and his cruel words will be the final push that they need to end it.”

Will turns to him, something in Hannibal’s posture and tone sounding far too intimate and personal to be a general observation. “Who was it, Hannibal? Who was it that was bullied?”

Hannibal groans, turning away from Will in his seat. “Will, please.”  


Will deliberates about poking at it further, his curiosity winning out. “Was it your first male partner? Is that what happened? Someone said something to him while he was already struggling to come to terms with who he was, and he killed himself for it?”

Hannibal says nothing in return, he instead continues looking out the window. The silence is deafening in the car, and Hannibal sighs. “Yes, Will.”

“Did you…” Will wants to ask it but shouldn’t. He shouldn’t because it was so long ago and it doesn’t matter anymore, except it does. He’s having a moral dilemma when Hannibal takes pity on him.

“I killed the man who provoked him, Will. It was grotesque, what I did to him. Does that make it better for you to know?”

“That wasn’t what I was going to ask,” Will hesitates. “I figured that guy was as dead as someone could be. I, uh… I wanted to ask you if you loved him.”

Hannibal’s eyebrows rise in surprise while his mouth falls open. “No, Will. He was a good man, and maybe, if we’d have had time, I could have learned to. The only two people in my life that I’ve truly loved are you and Mischa. Decidedly different forms of it, understandably. You’re a terribly jealous creature, do you know that?”

“Yeah,” Will ducks his head as he blushes. “I’m… sorry. I’m sorry he was taken from you like that.”

“It was a long time ago,” Hannibal muses softly. “I just can’t handle people like that. It would do him well to learn his place.”

“Somebody can’t learn something if they’re dead,” Will argues. “You are still recovering, and I don’t need to be out tracking you in the night because you’ve decided to sodomize a teenager with his own dick because he called us gay when we are, in fact, gay.”

“I said I wanted to put it in his mouth, not sodomize him,” Hannibal argues. 

Will pulls into their garage, sighing as he does. “Because one thing is better than the other?”

“I very likely won’t kill him,” Hannibal admits as they get out of the car. “However, once I’m recovered, if I go to that store and he continues his vulgarity, or if I see him being rude to someone else, he’s done. There’s no more discussion about it.”

Will loads his arms with bags while Hannibal unlocks the door. “If he keeps being a little shit, then yeah, go for it. But don’t pick him up from the store, and don’t God damn display him. We aren’t moving every three weeks because the Chesapeake Ripper likes to make a scene. You and I are together, now. You’re my life. That shit you pulled with Bedelia in Europe can’t happen again. Jack found you with no problem because you have no self-control.”

Hannibal’s lips were pursed as he started putting away groceries, and Will made another trip to the car to get the rest. When Will comes back into the kitchen, Hannibal looks contrite. “You’re my life now, too. I won’t do anything to lose you again, Will. No displays. I swear it.”

“Better yet, promise me. You always keep your promises, right?”

“I promise you, then. No more displays.”

Will takes a measured breath before coming around the counter to wrap his arms around the stubborn man near the fridge. “I hate asking you to give up pieces of yourself, but Jack knows your crime scenes, now. They know you. We have to be careful if we want the chance to have this together. I’m willing to do anything to keep what we’ve found.”

“As am I,” Hannibal agrees softly, leaning forward to press his lips to Will’s cheek. 

Hannibal makes them a simple lunch of salad greens and salmon with a delicious honey mustard vinaigrette, and Will moans around the tender fish, spearing some peppery arugula with it. “See,” Will says with his mouth full. “I made you salmon, and it wasn’t like this.”

“Your table manners are horrendous. Elbows on the table, foot on the adjoining chair, and talking with your mouth full? You are quite lucky that I am enamored by you,” Hannibal says with a twitch of his mouth.

“Sorry,” Will says, covering his full mouth with his hand. “It’s good, though.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” Hannibal says softly. Will notices that his shoulders are slightly slumped, and his eyes are drooping as he eats. 

“You’ve done too much today,” he sighs, reaching forward to lace his fingers with Hannibal’s own against the table. “After this, take your pain meds with your two o’clock antibiotics and get some sleep. I’ll be gone a while, anyway. I’ve got to drain the septic system and flush the freshwater tank. It'll be a few hours at least.”

“I think I will do that, actually,” Hannibal agrees tiredly. 

“Good,” Will smiles while dragging their laced fingers to his mouth to kiss Hannibal’s fingers. “When I come home, I’ll wake you up and kiss you for a bit, if you want.”

Hannibal smiles, rubbing his fingers softly against the knuckles of Will’s hand. “I’d like that. Wake me with your mouth, please.”

The abrupt flush of arousal that spreads through Will’s limbs makes him shift in his seat. “Not exactly motivating me to go take care of my boat, but sure. With my mouth, Hannibal.”

Will stands up, coming around the table to kneel at Hannibal’s side so he can press his mouth against Hannibal’s, who returns the kiss eagerly. Will’s palms are on the sides of his neck as he tips his head and deepens the kiss, while Hannibal seems content to just touch Will’s jawline gently.

Will pulls away, panting against Hannibal’s mouth, “Do you mean for me to wake you up like this?” Will asks softly before dragging his lips gently against his again, flicking his tongue out softly to taste him. 

“Yes,” Hannibal breathes into his mouth, his eyes closed. His pale lashes are splayed across his high cheekbones, his plush upper lip wet from Will’s mouth. Will grins as he leans back in, tugging his top lip gently with his teeth. 

He drags his nose across his jawline, kissing softly against the ridge of his jawbone, then the soft skin of his neck. His aftershave combined with his natural scent is heady, and Will breathes him in as his mouth suckles against his skin. “Or maybe with my mouth here, instead?” Will asks coyly, nipping softly at the skin of his throat.

Hannibal’s head tips back to give Will more room, and Will needs a moment to appreciate the beauty of the older man’s face. The way the afternoon sunlight was streaming through the windows caught on every hard plane of his cheeks, casting some in golden light and others in shadow. Hannibal makes an approving noise in his throat as Will presses his palm between his thighs, noting there is some interest, here. 

“I don’t want to leave,” Will confesses, leaning forward to kiss Hannibal again. 

“Nor would I like you to go,” Hannibal admits, dragging his fingers through Will’s unruly curls. “I am exhausted, though. I’ll rest, and then you can put your mouth wherever you’d like when you come home.”

“Promises, promises,” Will teases, leaning forward again to nip at Hannibal’s mouth. He stands slowly, rubbing the ache out of his knee from the tile flooring. “I’ll be back in maybe four hours or so? I’m hoping only four hours.”

“Take your time, beloved,” Hannibal smiles while his hands caress Will’s hip bones, sliding one hand forward to cup the erection he has straining in his shorts.

Will moans, thrusting gently into the warm weight of his palm. “I can’t leave if you keep touching me, Hannibal,” he sighs.

“Forgive me,” Hannibal says with a smirk, his voice sounding anything but apologetic. He removes his hands from Will’s body grudgingly, and Will distracts himself with grabbing Hannibal’s pain pills and his antibiotics from the counter, as well as a bottled water from the fridge. 

Hannibal takes them gratefully, and Will clears their mostly empty dishes from the table. Will takes the time to do the dishes and clean up the kitchen to keep Hannibal from trying to do it. He knows how the man can be about his kitchen, and he doesn’t want him hurting himself trying to clean up after taking pain medicine.

Hannibal comes around the island as he’s wiping down the counter, and Hannibal presses a soft kiss to his cheek. “I’m going to get some rest, but I’ll see you when you come home.”

Will snatches his wrist as he’s moving to walk away, sliding his fingers along the side of his face in the same way that Hannibal usually does with him. He leans forward and kisses Hannibal softly on his cheek, letting his lips linger on the soft skin as he does. “I’ll wake you up. With my mouth,” he grins.

“Come home to me soon, please,” Hannibal pleads, his voice lilting with affection. 

Will watches as he heads up the stairs, his palm pressed to his side as he goes. Will sighs from the archway of the kitchen, wondering if he should just take care of the damn boat another day.

He decides to go take care of it. It’s a decision that will haunt him for a long, long, time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not speak Spanish, and I relied on an online translation to get me through. I'm sorry if anyone notices it's inaccurate =\


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm taking pity on your souls and posting this early. VIOLENCE AND GORE, AHEAD. Consider yourselves warned!

_“He is a weapon, a killer. Do not forget it. You can use a spear as a walking stick, but that will not change its nature.”  
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles_

He gets to the marina just after three and goes below deck to gather all the dirty towels, bedsheets, and clothing strewn about the cabin. It takes him a few trips up and down the deck to bring all of the linens and nonperishable food items to the trunk of the Bentley.

He goes back below deck and opens the small cabinet, taking out the gun and the silencer, as well as the box of ammo, and packs it into a duffel bag to bring back with him once he’s finished with the boat.

He goes back above deck and rolls in the sails, strapping them down and tying them off, and he’s absolutely sweating by the time he’s finished. He goes to the small concession stand at the end of the dock and buys himself a bottled water, as well as a protein bar. He was starving, and he hopes Hannibal isn’t going hungry while he's gone.

The sun is just starting to set as he pulls the boat out of the marina to head over to the freshwater hoses, and he flushes his fresh water system and replaces it with clean water. While the freshwater tanks refill, he eats his protein bar and watches the sunset, sipping his bottled water as he does.

He takes the boat over the gas station, refueling the boat to the tune of almost four hundred bucks. It’s worth it, though, to make sure she’s always ready to go.

The last thing is the septic system, and despite this being a higher-end marina, there’s only one septic pump at the far end of the marina, and there’s two boats ahead of him.

He debates just doing this another day, but ultimately decides against it. He’s here, and he’s not in a panic. It’ll take an hour, tops.

He busies himself with cleaning the counters below deck and putting away dishes, wiping down tables and cleaning the bathroom. He didn’t think he’d have time to do all of this, and he’s pleased it’ll be done.

He goes above deck and heads to the side of the boat where the septic system drain is, opening the small closet to get things ready when he finds it. There, in the small cabinet, is a tiny, square, plastic cube. Will takes it out, rolling it in his fingers as he tries to figure out what the fuck it is.

The first thought is that it’s a tracking device, but why would it be on his boat? Who would put it here?

He tosses it into the ocean, his body going numb. It’s his turn at the septic system, and he pulls up to it, debating what the fuck he’s going to do. He gets the pump going, standing off to the side of the boat as he looks out at the deserted marina. It’s dark now, and there’s hardly anyone around. 

He decides that when he’s done, he’s going home to get Hannibal and they’re leaving as soon as possible. He’s even more glad now that the ship is ready to go.

Once the septic system is drained, he unscrews it and recaps the tank. He goes below deck to grab the duffel bag with the gun and silencer, loading the pistol and screwing the silencer back onto the gun. 

He takes a knife from the butcher block and drops it into the pocket of his shorts, and kicks on the motor to bring her back to his spot.

He’s at the end of the marina when he notices that his space is occupied by another boat, and there are people milling around on the dock around it.

He kills the engine, allowing the boat to glide up to the end of the farthest deck, tying her off temporarily. Will’s heart is slamming in his chest as he leaves the boat, sticking to the shadows cast by other ships as he approaches. With any luck, it’s just idiots who don’t know that they’ve parked their boat in his spot. He doubts it.

He’s close enough now that he can see them, and he climbs into someone else’s boat to hide at their stern, finally close enough now that he can both see them and hear them. One of them is on the phone, and what he hears makes his stomach drop. “-waited for them at a few grocery stores, and you were right, they showed up. The prick really still owns a Bentley. We followed them to a neighborhood, waiting till nightfall to go in. Will Graham left before that, though. We know he went into the garage, but Paulo left the house once they pulled in, and Graham must have left at some point after Paulo left.”

“You fucking idiot,” one of the other guys says to probably Paulo.

“Yeah, we’re at the marina now. We went to the last spot the tracking device said the boat was at, and it’s gone. The tracking signal is also gone. Maybe he fuckin bailed on Lecter. Maybe he knew the device was on board and he decided this was too much work?”

There’s a pause, and the fucker on the phone sighs. “I don’t know how you’d like me to find him if his boat is gone and there’s no tracking device, Doctor Bloom,” he spits.

Will’s vision narrows out, and he closes his eyes to regain his footing. Fucking Alana put a tracking device on his fucking boat. She must have known Will wasn’t going to leave Hannibal. She took fucking precautions to make sure that her back wouldn’t be turned for Hannibal to get her, first.

“Well, Alex and Mike are bringing Lecter, now. He’s in bad shape. I doubt he’s making it back to you alive.”

His vision goes red as he peeks above the railing, watching as two fuckheads drag an unconscious Hannibal down the dock, and he’s bleeding. His shoulder to his stomach are soaked in red, and Will takes the safety off the gun. 

“We’ll wait here for a bit, but if Graham doesn’t come back soon we’re out. The deal was for Lecter, and we’ve got him. I’ll be in touch soon,” he says as he ends the call. “Fuckin bitch,” he says once the call has ended.

“He’s not back? Fuck off,” one of the guys dragging Hannibal bitches. 

"Tracking signal disappeared. This was the last spot it sent a signal from. He could be fucking anywhere by now. I don't give a shit about Will Graham. The deal was for this asshole, and we got him."

“Get that fuck out of my face below deck. I want out of here as soon as possible.”

“Mike stabbed him,” Alex says. “He fought us and he had to. I don’t think he’s making it back to her alive.”

“I don’t really care, get him out of my face.”

The two drag Hannibal below deck, and Will climbs from the boat, creeping along the shadows cast by the others. 

Will braces his back against a deck post, closing his eyes as he steels himself for the carnage he’s about to wreak. If Hannibal is not breathing, he will flay open Alana’s entire family in front of her. He will cut the eyelids from her face to make sure she’s watching, and once he’s done, he’d kill her so slowly she’d wish she’d never been born.

They’ve all climbed into the boat, two men are in the stern, smoking, and the other three are below deck.

Will climbs over the boat railing, pressing himself to the starboard side, creeping along to the back. 

“Who gives a shit about the other guy? Like why does she want him?” One of them says.

“I think she’s worried he’ll retaliate. Although the fucker bailed, so I don’t know why she’s worried.”

“Wasn’t he FBI at one point? I’d rather not be kidnapping a fucking FBI agent.”

“He’s fucking a cannibalistic serial killer, I don’t think the FBI is worried about his God damn welfare. I’m going to grab a beer, you want one?”

“Get me a fucking Advil or something, Lecter fucked up my throat,” he whines.

“Pussy,” the other guy says as he goes below deck.

Will comes up from behind, pulling the blade from his pocket as he does. If he thought Hannibal fucked up his throat, Will couldn’t wait to see what he thought about what he was going to do to it.

He stabs swiftly into the side of his neck, quickly pulling the blade out as the man turns, spraying gouts of blood from his carotid artery. The spray of it arches across Will’s neck and chest, soaking him in the hot, coppery tang of blood. The man is gurgling on it, his eyes wide and panicked as he looks at Will, both of his hands clawing to close the enormous wound. Will stabs him in the throat again, grabbing his body as he falls to the deck so he doesn’t make any noise. 

Will tugs him over a bit, hiding the body from the line of sight of the doorway, and he adjusts his grip on the blade as he presses against the side of the cabin. He hears the other guy coming up, belching as he does, and he slams the door open, slipping a bit on the blood from the dead guy. “The fuck,” the guy manages, before Will is slamming the knife into his neck and pulling downward, flaying his neck open in a torrent.

Will takes his body as he collapses, settling him down against the deck. The beer bottle he was holding hits the deck with a thud before it rolls away, and Will holds his breath while he waits to see if the noise attracts any more of them. He waits quietly for a few minutes, and no one comes.

Will’s hands and arms are slippery, they’re so soaked in blood. He stretches his spine, takes the gun from his pocket, and goes below deck quietly.

“-he go?” one of them is saying harshly. There’s a noise like a fist connecting with flesh, and a low groan. Hannibal.

“Are you hearing me? Where the fuck would your pretty boy go? Or do you not know? Did he leave you?” The man laughs mockingly. “He probably found the tracking device and decided you weren’t fucking worth the drama.”

“If you were asked to keep me alive, you’re about to fail in your endeavor,” Hannibal slurs. 

“So fucking polite for a fucking cannibal,” the guy laughs, slapping Hannibal’s face hard enough that he can hear Hannibal groan through it. 

Will lifts the gun, and his vision goes in technicolor. Sound mutes out as he walks below deck. One of the men springs from the couch as he sees him, reaching for something in his blazer. Will pops two bullets into his neck and chest, and he collapses back into the couch, wrapping his fingers around his bleeding throat.

The other two swiftly reach for their guns, and Will manages to put a bullet in one of their heads as the other one lifts his gun.

Hannibal kicks his foot out, dropping the man to his knee so his shot goes to the left, grazing Will’s bicep. Will doesn’t flinch or feel it as he pops off three rounds into the man’s knees and elbow.

The man screams as he collapses to the floor, the gun dropping from his hands as he can’t manage to hold it anymore. Will walks over, kicking the gun away from him so he couldn’t reach for it.

Will leans over him, pressing his finger inside of the bullet wound of his kneecap, which makes the man on the floor wail through a sob. “Where is Alana?” he asks lowly, his voice dropping dangerously. “Where the fuck were you taking him?”

“Fuck you,” the man spits as tears leak from his eyes. “Where is Alex? Where is my brother?”

“Was he above deck?” Will asks, his mouth twisting into a feral grin. “If he was, then some of the blood on me was his. Don’t know which one he was, but both of them got stabbed in their necks, if that makes you feel better. Where is Alana?”

The man sobs on the floor, and Will glances up at Hannibal to check if he’s still breathing. He is, but he looks horrible. His eyes are dark as they look at Will, his jaw darkened with a bruise, and his shoulder is bleeding from a deep puncture wound. Will wanted to know what else they did, and this man wasn’t helping them.

“Did you give her an address for our house?” he asks, pressing his finger deeper into the bullet wound. 

“No, no, we haven’t,” he sobs. “She will find you, though. Don’t you fucking worry, you fucking little-“

He never gets to finish his thought, because Will is pressing a blade into his throat, mimicking how he killed his brother for the sake of art, and for the sake of stopping his vocal cords from making another sound. He reaches into the breast pocket of his jacket and takes out his cellphone, dropping it into his shorts pocket. He and Alana would have to have a little chat, and soon.

Will sits back on his haunches, tipping his head back as he comes down from the high he’s feeling. He stands abruptly, going to Hannibal and untying the ropes around his arms.

Hannibal leans forward exhaustedly, and Will tips his face up to press a kiss to his lips. “How bad is it, Hannibal? What did they do?”

Hannibal groans, “My shoulder is very sore, but I think stitches should take care of it once it’s cleaned up. They kicked me in my side, there may be internal damage at the surgery site.”

“Fuck,” Will mutters, his voice breaking. “What do we do? What can I do?”

“Get me to an animal hospital. If we can break in, I can tend to my wounds,” he grits out.

Will nods, lifting him from the seat and to wrap his good arm around his shoulders. Hannibal almost collapses but manages to stay on his feet as they hobble up the stairs. It takes them a long time to get down the dock, and Hannibal’s breathing is ragged once they get to the car. “Wait here, please. I’ll be right back, okay?” Will says desperately as he settles Hannibal into the passenger seat. He drops his phone, the other guy’s phone, and car keys in the center console, leaving them for when he comes back. He also leaves the gun with Hannibal, just in case there are more assholes nearby that Will doesn’t know about.

Hannibal nods weakly, and Will takes off down the dock at a sprint.

He goes to the cockpit and sets the navigation on the boat to a point so far out that the boat will run out of gas way before it gets there and kicks on the engine, adjusting the throttle to a reasonable speed once their boat is angled in the right direction. He jumps overboard, allowing the ship full of corpses to carry onto their destination, and Will swims back to the dock.

It’s the second time in his life that he’s had a baptism at sea, and he climbs from the water this time feeling much differently than the last time. The saltwater stings his newest wound, but it also cleanses the blood and gore from his body in a way that feels euphoric. 

He runs down the dock, slipping a bit on his wet sneakers, and climbs into the driver’s seat. He picks up his phone and clicks out the directions to the nearest animal hospital, revving the engine as he pulls out of the marina parking lot.

“Slow down,” Hannibal chuckles weakly. “Don’t draw attention to yourself.”

Will laughs, and the sound is a hollow, panicked one. “So much of this feels familiar,” he says softly. “I’d rather never repeat it.”

“Did you go for a swim, Will?” Hannibal asks, and his voice sounds distant and slurred.

“I got rid of evidence, for now. A second escape by the sea. Without you, this time.”

He pulls into the darkened animal hospital parking lot, parking the car and coming around the passenger side to help Hannibal to the side door. “What if it has an alarm?”

“We will deal with it,” Will says as he breaks the window and waits. No alarm, no noise from inside. He breathes a sigh of relief and climbs in, going around to the door and unlocking it so Hannibal can come in.

They make their way to the back, Will dragging Hannibal to the medical procedure room. He sets Hannibal on the metal table, clicking on bright lights that make them squint. 

Will takes the medical procedure kit and opens it, taking out scissors to cut away Hannibal’s shirt, leaving him bare from the waist up.

His side looks good, no stitches have come undone, but there’s bruising. Hannibal lays flat on the table and presses his fingers against the area, groaning as he feels around. “I think it’s just bruised,” he says softly, his voice tight with pain. “There’s no fluid build-up, nor do I feel anything that would suggest my intestinal repair has been compromised.”

“Would you be able to feel it if it were a small tear?” 

“No,” Hannibal sighs. “I would not. If there were a small tear, we’d know by tomorrow. I’d be septic again and would very likely be on death’s doorstep.”

“I don’t want to risk you,” Will says desperately, his voice breaking as he leans over Hannibal on the table. “Fuck, please. Please, don’t leave me, Hannibal.”

“I don’t want to, but I refuse to go to the hospital. I won’t be getting out a second time, Will. We will wait, and if I lose consciousness, then you can make the ultimate decision with my life. Whatever you choose, I’ll accept.”

Will allows the tears to fall as he presses his face to Hannibal’s chest, sobbing against his skin. Hannibal presses his fingers through Will’s hair, soothing him with his soft fingertips. Will sits up, licking the tears from the corners of his mouth. “Let’s get your shoulder fixed, then. One fucking thing at a time.”

Hannibal nods, sitting up on the metal table. He tells Will what to get him, and Will goes around the room collecting the items he says he’ll need.

He watches as Hannibal flushes the wound with an antiseptic wash, closing his eyes as it stings and cleanses the wound enough to cause it to bleed again. His hands are steady as he pulls the wound apart, looking inside it and assessing how deep it is, and how much damage has been done. “Only stitches,” he says finally.

“There’s no other damage?” Will asks.

“They got me in the muscle. It’s very painful, but it will heal,” Hannibal assures him. Will gets the suture kit ready, and Hannibal touches Will’s hand. “Do it for me, please.”

“I don’t have your skill, Hannibal. You’ll scar if I do it,” he says softly.

“It will scar no matter,” Hannibal assures him. “I’d rather it be by your hand.”

Will takes the suture kit carefully, closing his eyes for a moment before he begins. Hannibal walks him through it, and Will is aware that the older man’s words are drifting and slurring, his head lolling as he fights sleep. Will hopes he’s only fighting sleep.

Once he’s finished, Will covers the stitches in an antibiotic ointment, and then clean gauze. “Your arm, Will,” Hannibal says softly.

“I’ll take some things home with us. What do you think you’ll need?”

“Should we go home?”

“Where else will we go? You can’t be at sea, right now. They’re all dead. We have at least a few days before we need to get moving. At least I hope so.”

“Get more antibiotics. Broad spectrum, this time.” He lists them off as Will packs a bag with them, stuffing surgical supplies into it as well. 

They leave the building a few hours later, climbing back into the car that smells of damp sea water from Will’s wet clothes. The drive back to the house is quiet, the both of them exhausted and sore as they pull into the garage. 

Will helps him into the house, noting the side door has been kicked in. Will would have to figure out a way to brace it shut through the night. He helps Hannibal up the stairs, shucking all of his clothes off before he puts him in the bed. “What antibiotics do you need?”

“Augmentin,” Hannibal says softly. “Two of them, please.”

Will gets two, and two pain pills, and hands them to Hannibal with a cup of water. “How often will you need them?”

“Eight hours apart is good,” Hannibal says weakly.

“Rest,” Will begs him, leaning over him to press his lips to Hannibal’s briefly. “I’ll be right here.”

“Will,” Hannibal sighs. “You were magnificent tonight. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in its ferocity, not in my entire life. I love you so profoundly.”

Will bites back a sob, gripping the bedsheets tightly to keep himself in control. “I love you, Hannibal.”

He’s not sure if Hannibal hears him, as his breathing has evened out in his sleep. Will hovers over him for some time, watching the rise and fall of his chest and thanking God for every breath his takes.

He must take care of his arm though, if he wants to stay healthy enough to care for Hannibal. He strips his ruined clothing and steps into the shower, lathering residual blood and seawater from his body. The hot water stings his wound, and he cleanses it with soap until it’s bleeding again.

He wraps a towel around his waist as he climbs out, going to the bathroom sink with the small bag of supplies. The wound is not deep at all, mostly a surface wound. He wouldn’t need stitches.

He cleans it with some antiseptic, and covers it with antibiotic ointment and gauze, wrapping it tightly to keep the compression and stop the bleeding.

The adrenaline has decidedly worn off, and his body is sore and tired in a way that makes him fight sleep while he’s standing up. He pulls on a pair of pajama pants and heads downstairs, bracing the door shut with some heavy furniture and a few nails from the garage. It’s not perfect, but it would have to do for now.

He goes back out to the garage to get the cell phones in the center console and goes into the kitchen to scroll through a dead man’s recent contacts, pressing call on the first one.

It rings only once when she answers. “What took you so long? Did you find him?”

“Alana,” Will greets softly, his fists tightening on the kitchen island.

There’s a long pause before she speaks. “Will?”

“What did you do, Alana?”

“What did you do? Are they all dead?” She asks, her voice tinged with shock.

“Oh, yes,” he says softly. “All dead. Why did you do this? Why not just let us go?”

“Fuck,” she sighs, and he can hear her crying. “Hannibal promised me he’d kill me. I knew you’d go to him, or at least I figured you would. I took the precaution of tracking your boat and truck in case you decided to act on it. I guess I was right.”

“Hannibal and I have no interest in you,” he lied. It might have been the truth yesterday, but it wasn’t the truth anymore. “He and I just want to live. We aren’t interested in you or your family.”

“He always keeps his promises, Will,” she says softly.

“Yeah, and he keeps his promises to me most of all. We aren’t going after you. We don’t care where you are or what you’re doing. We just want to be left alone. Does Jack know where we are?”

“No, I don’t want Jack to know where Hannibal is.”

“If you promise to stop pursuing us, I promise that we won’t come for you. I swear it, Alana. If you keep coming, I’ll kill everyone you send, and then I’ll come for you.”

“What has he done to you, Will?” She asks, and her voice is colored with incredulity. “Do you love him?”

“More than anything, and if you keep trying to take him from me, you’ll be very sorry. We’re leaving, now. You don’t have a tracking device on me anymore. Let us disappear, and we’ll forget about this.”

There’s a long pause on the other end, and he can hear her breathing. “I don’t know how I would find you even if I wanted to.”

“You’ve found him twice, now. You know his habits. I’m promising you that if you stop, we’ll never come for you.”

“How can I trust you?”

“You’d need to take my word,” he says softly, lilting his voice in the way that he knew she’d like to hear. It suggested his softness, his sweetness that others seemed to see in him. “Please don’t take him from me. It would be like losing Margot, Alana. He’s my other half. Leave us alone and we’ll forget about you.”

“I want to believe you,” she says quietly, her voice faltering through what he imagines to be tears. 

“Believe it. Hannibal and I aren’t interested in vengeance, or anything else. We just want to be together and have the chance to love one another in the way that we’ve never been able to. Please, Alana.” He allows his voice to break, demonstrating that he’s crying.

“I won’t keep coming for him,” she says finally. “Promise me, Will. Promise me he won’t hurt my family, and I’ll leave you alone.”

“I promise that Hannibal will not come after you, or your family,” he vows, his voice strong and steady with the pledge. Hannibal could wait in the car while Will tore her apart.

“I’m going to believe you,” she says eventually. “We have many guards, Will. If they see you or Hannibal anywhere near us, all bets are off.”

“That goes both ways,” Will replies, his voice dipping with threat. “If you send anyone else, he’ll be coming for you. You won’t like what he does when he finds you. It’ll take an army to keep us from you.”

“Jesus,” she sobs. “What happened to you?”

“The same thing that’s happened to you,” he replies easily. “The things we’ll do to protect our family, right?”

He hears her sigh, her breath stuttering as she does. “We won’t keep looking for you. I promise, Will.”

“And we won’t look for you, either,” Will assures her. “Take care, Alana.”

“Will,” she says softly, pleadingly. “He’s still not good for you.”

Will chuckles, swiping at chin absently. “Maybe not. But I love him more than anything in this world, and I’d do anything for him. Anything, Alana.”

“Take care, Will. Please. Be careful.”

“Tell Margot I said hello,” he says as he ends the call. He takes the battery and sim card out and throws it all in the trash. His revenge for tonight wouldn’t be anytime soon, but it would be coming.

He heads back up the stairs, taking the gun with him as well as a knife. He didn’t think anyone else would be coming, but he wouldn’t risk being caught off guard. He settles into the empty side of the bed, turning his body so he can look at Hannibal.

His face was slack in his sleep, his chest rising and falling evenly. His breathing was good, and Will was relieved to notice that there were no rasping noises coming from him. He was just sleeping. 

Will settled out beside him, his eyes fighting sleep for a long time. He takes his phone and sets an alarm for nine am, the time for the next dose of Hannibal’s pills, and allows himself to fall asleep.


	11. Chapter 11

_“He looked different in sleep, beautiful but cold as moonlight. I found myself wishing he would wake so that I might watch the life return.”  
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles_

It feels like only moments later when the alarm is going off, and Will slaps the phone until it stops making noise as he sits up, bleary eyed. He glances over to Hannibal, who’s slept through it.

He gets out of bed and goes downstairs to make some toast and pour some orange juice, something light for Hannibal, but something that has some sugars to prevent him from deteriorating.

He wakes Hannibal, who blinks his eyes open, and Will groans when he sees the sheen of fever on his skin. “Antibiotics and pain meds,” he says.

Hannibal takes them from Will’s hand, sipping the orange juice weakly. “Try to drink it all, Hannibal. You need some calories in you.”

Hannibal grimaces as he sips more, shaking his head when he can’t anymore.

“Take a few bites of toast for me, please,” Will says softly, holding out a buttered piece of toast that Hannibal nibbles at, his eyes holding Will’s the whole time. 

He barely finishes one slice, but he does manage to drink the entire glass of orange juice, which makes Will happy. Will goes into the bathroom and wets a facecloth, coming back to the bed to clean the sheen of sweat from Hannibal’s face and neck, adjusting the cloth to a cool side as he trails it down his chest and arms. “Is it sepsis?” he asks, and his voice breaks as he does.

“I don’t think so,” Hannibal sooths him. “I think it’s just an over-wrought immune system. I’ve asked a lot of my old body these last two weeks. I think… I imagine if it were sepsis it would be much worse by now.”

“Should you take something for the fever?”

Hannibal nods, “maybe a Motrin.”

Will goes downstairs to get more orange juice, making a detour to the bathroom to get a Motrin before coming back to the bed. Hannibal takes the pill gratefully, sipping the juice slowly.

“Bathroom before you fall asleep?”

Hannibal nods, and he can tell the older man would much rather not move at all. Will helps him out of bed, and Hannibal shivers as he’s pulled from the warm blankets. He stands by the toilet as Hannibal relieves himself, taking him back to the bed once he’s finished. Will gets a pair of pajama pants from the drawer, sliding them up Hannibal’s legs and over his hips before getting him back under the covers.

“If I pass, Will,” Hannibal says softly, his voice breaking. “If I pass, my lawyer Will be reaching out to you. Everything I have is yours. It’s all taken care of. You’ll want for nothing.”

Will’s throat constricts with tears and his moans through a sob, “I’ll want you, Hannibal. Don’t pass. Don’t leave.”

“I don’t want to,” Hannibal assures him. “You promised me you’d wake me with your mouth,” he teases weakly, his mouth quirking with a grin.

Will chokes on a laugh as he sobs, leaning forward to press his mouth to Hannibal’s own, dragging his lips and tongue greedily for a moment before pulling away. “If you pull through this, I’ll wake you with my mouth everyday for the rest of my life.”

“Promises, promises,” Hannibal sighs, closing his eyes. 

“Rest,” Will says desperately. “I’ll be right here, okay?”

Hannibal doesn’t hear him as he’s already drifted off. Will’s body wracks through a silent sob, and he covers his face in his hands as he tries to pull himself together. 

His condition deteriorates throughout the day. He’s sweating in his sleep and shivering the entire time. Will feels completely numb as he watches him, praying to every deity he can think of to help him. 

It’s just after four, when Hannibal starts talking.

“Mischa,” he calls out, his body tremoring through a series of violent shivers. “Mischa,” he says again, and then there’s a trail of words in Lithuanian that Will doesn’t follow.

Will comes to the bed desperately, trailing his fingers through Hannibal’s sweaty hair as he sobs over his unconscious body. “No,” Will chokes out. “You don’t get to fucking go to her, Hannibal. You’re mine. You’re mine, and you won’t leave me for anyone.”

Hannibal’s mouth stops moving, his eyes moving behind his eyelids as though he’s searching for something. “You tell her to wait for you,” Will pleads, his tears falling on Hannibal’s throat and chest. “Hannibal,” he sobs, pressing his face to the older man’s forehead, pressing kisses to his salty skin. “Stay. Stay,” he repeats over and over, rocking over his body anxiously.

He doesn’t let him go for some time. He holds Hannibal in his arms, pressing kisses to his temple and his cheeks. He leaves the bed temporarily to go get more orange juice and five pills, hoping to God he can wake him enough to take them. If he can’t, then it’s over.

“Hannibal,” Will pleads loudly. “Wake up. Please, wake up.”

The older man doesn’t stir, and Will goes to the bathroom to wet a facecloth heavily with cold water, coming back to the bed to fling the covers off of him. He smooths the icy facecloth over his face and neck, and Hannibal jolts with the cold wet of the cloth, his eyes snapping open as they blink up uncomprehendingly at Will. He doesn’t seem lucid, but Will is so relieved he leans forward to press a kiss to his mouth anyway. 

“Pills, Hannibal,” he pleads. “Try for me, please.”

Hannibal’s eyes roll in his head as he takes them, Will holding his head up as he swallows one at a time, each with a small sip of orange juice. He manages to get them down, and Hannibal is asleep again only moments after taking them.

Will goes into the bathroom and takes a basin from under the sink, filling it with cool water before going back to the bed. He takes his time, rinsing the cloth and cleansing Hannibal’s sweaty skin gently. Hannibal moans in his sleep, his mouth pinched with distaste as he shivers against the cool air on his damp skin. Will needs to bring his fever down, and it wouldn’t be pleasant for him.

He keeps going, rewetting skin as it dries, taking away sweat and dried blood that he hadn’t cleaned from the night before. Eventually, Hannibal’s violent shivers subside, and he’s sleeping soundly.

Will’s body slumps in exhaustion, and he sits at the side of the bed, just watching Hannibal breath for hours before his stomach growls angrily. He needs to take care of himself if he expects to be able to take care of Hannibal.

He goes downstairs reluctantly, pouring himself a glass of water and eating leftover shepherds pie from the other night. It feels like a lifetime ago, even though it was only two days. He goes back upstairs as soon as he can, anxiety creeping in the entire time he’s gone that Hannibal will leave him if he’s not there.

He’s still breathing when he comes back, and Will sighs in relief. Will glances at the clock and notices that Hannibal can take his next dose of meds in four hours, and Will takes his phone to set an alarm for one am.

Will doesn’t want to sleep. He doesn’t. His body though, is so exhausted that he’s almost folded in half as he slumps against Hannibal’s side. He settles against him gently, resting his palm over his heart. He hopes that if it stops while he’s sleeping, his body will recognize it and wake him.

He hopes that’s true, as he presses his palm to Hannibal’s chest fully, swallowing as he feels the steady thrum of his life under his hand. He hopes, and he falls asleep.

The alarm goes off too soon, and Will sits up quickly, hovering over Hannibal to make sure he was still breathing.

He was.

Will climbs from the bed and goes downstairs to get another glass of orange juice, making a stop in the bathroom to get his five pills, before sitting to the side of Hannibal’s hip. He’s sweating, again, and Will resolves that once he’s done taking his meds he would clean him again with a cool cloth.

“Hannibal,” Will calls gently, touching the side of his face softly. “Wake up, please.”

Hannibal blinks awake groggily, his throat constricting with a dry swallow. He groans as Will lifts his head up, pressing a pill to his mouth and then the glass of orange juice, taking his time for each pill to go down before giving him another.

Hannibal is asleep again before Will even sets his head back to the pillows, and Will lets a few tears fall as he looks down at him. He goes into the bathroom and replaces the water in the basin with clean, cool, water, and grabs a fresh facecloth from the closet.

He takes his time dragging the cool cloth over Hannibal’s skin, pressing kisses to the damp flesh after each pass. He swipes the cloth over his hand, lifting it to his mouth to press his lips to each knuckle, and then the palm. Hannibal’s shivers have lessened, but he still doesn’t seem lucid, which worries Will to the pit of his stomach.

He keeps swiping gently at his skin, pressing the cloth to the hollows under his eyes, gliding it along sharp cheekbones. He smooths it over his forehead, then down his temples to the side of his neck, gliding it forward over the hollow of his throat. He rinses the cloth, then brings it back, sliding it over coarse, graying, chest hair, matting it as he slides it over his chest and abdomen. The bruising is worse, now, but that would be normal. He hopes it’s normal.

He needed more sleep, but the thought was revolting. Recognition that every touch of Hannibal’s skin might be the last one he gets if Hannibal leaves him makes him keep touching, keep memorizing. He commits each crevice of muscle to memory, each callous on his long fingers (from drawing, Will realizes with a small smile), each distinct texture of his skin (rougher on his forearms, like silk on the inside of his elbows), and he tastes the skin where the urge is the greatest. 

Will wishes for the first time in his life that he didn’t have so many callouses of his own from working on motors so he could detect every nuance in the feel of Hannibal’s skin. He does it with his lips, instead.

He should feel guilty, loving him like this while he wasn’t aware of it. He knows Hannibal wouldn’t mind, though.

He rests his ear over Hannibal’s heart eventually, letting his fingertips glide along his chest and collarbones as he does. He’s not sure what he’ll do, if Hannibal dies. He might find Alana and kill her, and he might just lay beside his body and let himself die with him.

The latter option sounds more likely. 

He fights sleep for as long as he can before the steady beat of the heart under his ear drags him into unconsciousness.

“Will,” someone calls him. He blinks awake, and his face is damp as it rests against Hannibal’s sweaty chest. He sits up groggily, looking up and finding Hannibal’s eyes open, but tired as they look at him.

Will sits up abruptly, turning his body as his heart slams in his chest. His throat constricts and his eyes fill with tears as he looks at the older man, relief washing over him so harshly it feels like a physical blow. A noise escapes his throat as he leans over him, pressing kisses to his face and then his mouth. “Hannibal,” he sighs as his tears fall down his cheeks.

Hannibal reaches up weakly, touching the side of Will’s face, running his thumb against the tear tracks he finds there. “I’m alright, Will, it’s alright.”

Will sobs, pressing his face into Hannibal’s neck and wrapping his arms around his shoulders, pressing soft kisses to the skin of his throat as he does. “You tried to die on me again,” he chastises sternly.

“I feel like I did,” he rasps out, his voice dry from disuse. “You kept me alive.”

Will sits up again to look at him, pressing his fingers to his cheekbone, and then his jaw. “I kicked down death’s door to get you.”

Hannibal grins, “You’re very possessive. I’m not surprised.”

Will laughs, and he feels lighter and better than he has in months. “Is the worst of it over? Will it get better? Or is there still a chance…”

Hannibal shakes his head, “My fever has mostly broken. Keeping to the antibiotics and Motrin should take care of it.”

“You should eat something,” Will says quickly. “How’s a little bit of shepherd’s pie sound?”

“Terrible,” Hannibal chuckles. “I’ll eat it, though.”

Will nods eagerly, jumping from the bed to go downstairs and make a small plate, getting an iced water as well.

He helps Hannibal sit up a bit, and he feeds Hannibal small bites, which earns him a little smile from the older man. “I can feed myself, Will,” he chuckles.

“I’d rather do it, thanks,” Will responds tartly.

Hannibal groans at the first sip of iced water, and he drinks it quickly. “Easy,” Will warns him. “Drink it a little at a time.”

Hannibal sighs as he sets the glass aside, licking his lips as he settles into the pillows. Will pops open the pill bottles as gives him his five pills, which Hannibal takes with sips of water to ease them down.

“Bathroom?” Will asks softly, and Hannibal nods. Will helps him from the bed, and Hannibal stops him at the bathroom door. 

“I’ll just be a few minutes, please.”

Will sighs, shifting his feet. “I’ll be right out here if you need me.”

Hannibal shuts the door behind him, and Will musters all of his strength to not kick the door in and follow him. He busies himself with stripping the bed in the meantime, fluffing clean sheets over the mattress from the closet and remaking the bed that smelled strongly of sweat.

He hears the toilet flush, and then the water running at the sink as he fluffs the pillows into fresh pillowcases. 

Hannibal smiles when he sees that Will has changed the bedsheets, and he settles into them with a sigh as Will tucks the pillow under his head. “Do you need stool softeners?”

Hannibal groans, and shakes his head. “No, everything is working just fine, Will.”

“I am so fucking relieved, Hannibal. You can’t even imagine how relieved I am.”

“That I’m defecating?” Hannibal asks with a concerned quirk of his eyebrow.

Will laughs, leaning over him to kiss him soundly. “No, you jerk. That you’re okay.”

“Oh,” Hannibal chuckles. “Yes, well, you made sure of it.”

Will kisses him again, pulling away to look him in the eyes. “You dreamed of Mischa. You were speaking in Lithuanian and calling to her.”

Hannibal frowns, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. “Did I say anything in English?”

“No, just her name. It was all I understood. Will you tell me about her?”

Hannibal licks his lips as he glances away. “I’ve never really told anyone about her,” he admits softly. "I spoke about her generally to Bedelia while I was her patient, but never more than I needed to.”

Will struggles through the hot stab of jealousy, beating it back and containing it. There was nothing to be jealous of. Hannibal was his. “Tell me about her, please.”

“She was seven years younger than me. My mother passed when she gave birth to her. My father, he took it out on her. Blamed her for killing my mother, which irked me. Mischa didn’t do it on purpose. I took it upon myself to take care of her, and she was my entire world for the short time I had her. She recognized that I had… darkness in me. She demanded better, and I gave it to her. I changed my very nature to please her, and if she were still alive, I think I would be quite different today.

“She was six when we had an especially bleak winter. The people we hired to tend the grounds spent more time inside than out, and there was a man that liked her, he used to watch her and speak to her in hushed tones. I didn’t trust him, and I never kept him out of my sight. 

“My father had been ill, cancer, I think, judging by his scent. Although I never found out for sure. He passed away during a blizzard, and no one could come for his body in the storm. Mischa was in her room, and I went to her to ease her grief, as I imagined the noises coming from her room were from crying. They were not. The man had decided that with my father’s passing, he could have what he wanted. I walked in on him… hurting her.

“When he saw me, he reacted without thought. He pressed his hand down and the sound of her neck snapping was so loud it echoed in the room. I attacked him, I don’t remember what I did, but I almost killed him. Chiyoh came upstairs and found me, begged me not to kill him. She took charge of him after that, and I left the manor as soon as I was able to.”

“Hannibal,” Will sighs, swiping at tears on his cheeks. “Jesus, I am so sorry.”

“You remind me of her, in some ways. She was… very empathetic to everything around her. Very unlike me in every way. She’d save insects from inside the house, bringing them outside where they could find true love. She loved watching fireflies and sitting by the stream. She cried the first time I took her fishing. She asked me why I would want to hurt the fish, as I took it from the hook. I let them all go, so I wouldn’t break her heart by killing one. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t have done for her, and I failed her.”

“You didn’t,” Will assures him. “You were just a kid, even though you were older than she was. Do you think she’d want you blaming yourself? I don’t think so. I think she’d want you to find joy and true love just like her little bugs.”

“I’ve found it,” Hannibal says meaningfully. “I found it in you.”

Will sputters on a breath as he swallows another sob, and he leans forward to kiss Hannibal again, this time getting a response. Hannibal holds Will’s face to his own, slanting their mouths together as their tongues relearn each other’s mouths; tasting and devouring softly for a few moments before Hannibal pulls away. Will licks the flavor of him from his lips, pressing his forehead against Hannibal’s as he sighs.

“You’re everything to me, Hannibal,” Will whispers while gripping the sides of Hannibal’s face desperately between his hands. “Everything.”

“She was the first person that I consumed,” Hannibal says quietly. “I know Chiyoh told you that, but I want you to know why. I wanted to keep her with me, always. I wanted to have a part of her with me wherever I went. It made sense, at the time. Now I mostly wish I wouldn’t have done that to her.”

“Jesus,” Will sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. “I am so sorry.” His empathy was snared up in the heavy emotions in the room, and he was struggling to even find breath through the fog of it.

“It hurts you to feel this through me, does it not?”

“Yes,” Will admits while rubbing absently at his temples. “I don’t even have to open my gift to feel it, it’s so horrible.”

“I’m sorry,” Hannibal says quickly. “Change of subject, then.”

“No, it’s fine, it’s just…” Will sighs. “I want you to tell me things. I want to know about you. I don’t want you to hide from me because you’re afraid I’ll get snagged up in emotions. It happens all the time, and I don’t want you tip-toeing around me because of it.”

“I won’t do that,” Hannibal assures him with a smirk. 

Will considers what he’s about to say, hesitating while he does. “I let that man go, knowing that I was putting Chiyoh in the position of having to kill him or be killed. She killed him, Hannibal.”

Hannibal nods, “I know. Chiyoh told me that.”

Will licks his lips, adjusting himself on the bed. “She left, and I displayed him.”

Hannibal’s mouth falls open at the admission, his eyes heavy on Will’s own. “How did you do it?”

Will glances away, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. “I made him wings out of branches. I wove broken wine bottles and feathers between the branches, so they looked like dragonfly wings. I covered him in wine and snails from the floors of the basement and I strung him up so the moonlight came in from behind the window through his wings. He’s probably still hanging there, with his wings filtering the moonlight. Dragonflies are a symbol of change. Of… becoming.”

Hannibal’s eyes had welled with tears, a few leaking down his cheeks as he watches Will with an unreadable expression. “I fight so hard sometimes against fate,” Hannibal whispers eventually. “I despise the idea that anything is meant to be or has been decided for us as though we don’t have any say. In the same breath, I think about how unlikely it was that I would decide to go to Baltimore. That I would be right in your path, that I would find you. I think you were meant for me, Will. I think if Mischa had any say, wherever she is, she would have made sure I found you. I never even realized I was missing pieces of myself until I found you. If it was fate that brought you to me, then how could I resent it? I love you, Will. The words aren’t enough, but I do.”

Will leans forward again and kisses him gently, savoring him with his mouth while his fingertips trail along his chest. “They don’t feel like they’re enough, but that’s why we show it. Our actions, our devotion. The trust we put in one another, the physical and intellectual connection. It all demonstrates the same thing.”

Hannibal sighs as he settles against the pillows, trailing soft fingers along Will’s jawline and throat. “Love,” Hannibal realizes, his mouth quirking gently with a smile.

Will kisses him softly, dragging his knuckles across his sharp cheekbones as he does. “We should both get some rest. I’ll set the alarm on my phone to go off in time for the next round of meds.”

“Is it safe to stay here? Should we be moving on?” Hannibal asks, his voice low as he fights sleep.

“I spoke to Alana,” Will admits softly, and Hannibal quirks an eyebrow. “I called her from the guy’s cell phone. I told her that they were all dead, and everyone she’d send would end up the same way. I also told her that we weren’t interested in her, and if she stopped, we wouldn’t come for her. She believed me, I think. We shouldn’t stay her endlessly, but we have time. Once you’re feeling better, this house should be sold. We need to be gone by then.”

“Why did Alana do this? Is it because of my promise to her? Was she being proactive?”

“Yeah,” Will admits softly while settling against Hannibal’s side. “It seems like that was the motivation. She asked me why I was doing this, and I told her it was for the same reason that she did. Because we’d both do anything for our family.”

Will settles himself against Hannibal’s good side, resting his cheek over his heart, and Hannibal laces his fingers through his curls as he drifts off. It takes a few minutes, but eventually, Will follows him into unconsciousness, too.


	12. Chapter 12

_“It was almost like fear, in the way it filled me, rising in my chest. It was almost like tears, in how swiftly it came. But it was neither of those, buoyant where they were heavy, bright were they dull.”  
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles_

They both startle with the sound of the alarm at five pm, late afternoon daylight slanting through the windows. Will sits up groggily while Hannibal merely turns onto his side, settling himself into the bed with a sigh. Will gets out of bed wearily and collects the dirty dishes from the end table, going downstairs to drop them in the sink. He gets Hannibal a glass of water, and heads back upstairs to get his pills.

Hannibal is sitting up when he comes back, rubbing sleep from his face. “Only one pain pill, please. I feel like I’m in a fog.”

Will nods, shaking out four pills and handing them to Hannibal with the glass of water, who takes them gratefully. “I’m going downstairs to makes something for us for dinner. I’ll be back, okay? Do you need to use the bathroom before I go?”

Hannibal shakes his head, “I can get there on my own, Will. I’m feeling much better.”

Will hesitates at the doorway, “Are you sure?”

“Very,” Hannibal chuckles as he slings his legs from the side of the bed. “I know it’s dinnertime, but I’d like eggs, if I get a vote.”

Will laughs, “Eggs with a side of toast and eggshells, coming right up.”

Hannibal stands slowly, coming over to Will with a hand pressed to his side. He tips Will’s face up, and leans down to press lips gently over Will’s own, breathing into his mouth and gliding gently while his hands cup under his jaw. It’s so soft, and so sweet, Will sighs and presses himself to Hannibal fully, letting their tongues touch briefly before Hannibal pulls away. “Don’t come downstairs,” Will pleads. “Rest, I’ll come up with our plates.”

Hannibal nods as he steps into the bathroom. “I’ll be right here, Will.”

Will goes back downstairs and washes the dishes that have accumulated in the last few days, taking a few minutes to dry them, and put them away. He cuts up a honeydew melon, plating some of it and getting the rest into a glass bowl to go in the fridge. 

He makes them each a good portion of eggs and fries them each a few strips of bacon. No fancy seasonings the way that Hannibal makes it, but bacon is bacon.

The eggs are finishing as the toast pops out of the toaster, and he butters the slices and plates them, tossing forks on the plates as he goes back up the stairs. Hannibal is sitting on the bed when he returns, propped up against the enormous wood headboard, freshly shaved and looking much better. “Did you shower?” Will asks him as he hands him his plate.

“No, just a shave. It makes me feel… more put together, I suppose,” he admits while nibbling at his bacon. “I didn’t think it was wise to take a shower alone. I’d like your help with that after dinner, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course, I don’t mind,” Will chuckles as he shovels eggs into his mouth. “The shower is big enough that I am coming with you, just so you know.”

The little smirk on Hannibal’s mouth is almost teasing. “I imagined nothing else. Later on tonight, my stitches can come out from my back and side. They aren’t holding anything together, anymore. The skin is healed.”

“I can do that, too. We’ll have an eventful night,” Will chuckles as he nibbles on his bacon. 

They finish their dinner, and Will takes their empty plates downstairs and quickly cleans up, washing dishes and wiping down counters, before heading back upstairs. Hannibal is settled into the pillows, dozing, and Will sits to his side. “Do you still want to shower? It could be tomorrow.”

Hannibal shakes his head. “I smell horrible. Tonight, please.”

Will helps him from the bed, as the pain meds have made him a little woozy, and they head into the bathroom. Will settles him against the counter where he peels back the gauze on his shoulder wound, assessing it with eyes that don’t know a thing about how a wound like this should be healing. It looks crusty and disgusting, and Will bites his lip while he looks at it.

Hannibal catches his expression, turning to assess the wound himself. “It’s healing well, Will. You did a very good job suturing, and there are no signs of infection. Thank you,” he says gratefully. 

Hannibal reaches forward and unwraps Will’s gauze from his bicep, peeling the gauze away to assess Will’s own wound. “This should have gotten stitches,” Hannibal grimaces. “I should have helped you. It’s healing well, though. No infection.”

“It’s fine, Hannibal,” Will assures him. “You were in no place to be tending to me.”

Will turns the shower on, adjusting the spray heads so that they aren’t pummeling, but just a soft rain over them. Will turns to Hannibal and undoes his pajama pants string, tugging them down his hips and off of his legs, and then strips off his own pajama shorts. 

They both step into the warm spray, sighing in relief. Will washes Hannibal’s hair, scraping his fingers gently through his hair, washing away days of sweat and grime from the fine locks. He tips Hannibal’s head back into the spray to rinse, and the cascade of water over his cheekbones and neck make all the blood in his body head south, and he’s embarrassed by it as Hannibal scents the air and drops his gaze to see it.

Will lathers up a bar soap and runs it along Hannibal’s hands, wrists, arms, and shoulders, lathering them and then rinsing them lovingly. His chest is next, and Will lathers the soap into his chest hair, swirling his fingertips over his abdomen and ribs, before coming up and pressing his soapy fingers into his armpits. Hannibal chuckles when he does, and Will laughs, realizing that his serial killer lover is ticklish.

Will soaps up his hands again, turning Hannibal into the spray to lather his back, taking gentle care to be tender over the brand. His back is still so corded with muscle, even despite the amount of time he’s needed to heal. Once the soap is rinsed clean, Will presses a kiss to the muscle of his shoulder blade, marveling at the softness of his skin under his lips. 

Will turns him to face him again, lathering his fingers and dropping to his knees, washing his feet and his ankles, his calves and his thighs, pressing kisses to his hips as he does. Hannibal isn’t really responding, physically, aside from the slightest hint of arousal. He takes no offense, nor is he looking for anything more physical than what he’s doing right now. 

Will stands again, lathering his hands for the final bits of him. Will wraps his soapy fingers around his semi-flaccid cock, working the soap gently over him, then his balls. Hannibal sighs, his head tipping back, and Will watches as he swallows, his eyes following the constriction of his throat.

Will resoaps his hands, tugging Hannibal flush against his body so their cocks are lined up, Will’s own throbbing for attention, but duly ignored. Will’s fingers glide along Hannibal’s ass, soaping the cheeks, before delving between them. 

Hannibal’s breath stutters out, his head snapping forward to watch Will’s face as Will traces a soapy finger over his hole, spreading soap gently around him, teasing and cleansing at the same time. Hannibal crashes their mouths together as he cock twitches against Will’s own, Hannibal’s own hands palming Will’s ass roughly. 

They kiss under the spray for a few minutes, Will rocking himself gently against Hannibal’s body, while the water rinses the soap from Hannibal’s body. Hannibal pulls away reluctantly, his lips swollen and pink from Will nipping at them. “Your turn, my love.”

Will moans as Hannibal lathers him up with the same attention to detail as Will did for him, his clever fingers both cleaning and massaging as he does, and Will feels boneless as he soaps his chest and back, pressing kisses to the skin once it’s rinsed. Will almost has a heart attack when Hannibal slips soapy fingers between his cheeks, spreading them and pressing against his hole, but not pressing in. God, Will wanted him to press in.

There would be time for it later when Hannibal was feeling better.

Hannibal turns him in his arms, so his back is pressed to Hannibal’s chest. Hannibal is nibbling on his ear as he resoaps his hands, lathering them before soaping Will’s hip bones, then downward. 

Will’s moan is over-loud in the shower when Hannibal wraps his slick fingers around his cock, gripping it tightly for a second to relieve the ache, before tugging at him, working his wrist over the head, then back down to the base. Will’s head falls back onto his shoulder as Hannibal works him with his hand, and Hannibal is suckling bruises against his neck, his other hand wrapping around to tug at his nipples, and then trailing up to caress the base of his throat. 

Will’s skin feels like it’s burning; white-hot pulses of pleasure zinging over his body, which is absolutely covered in Hannibal. He’s wrapped in his arms and caressed by his mouth while his hand worships his cock, and Will can’t hold back the steady moans and grunts as he thrusts up into his palm. 

“I am so in love with you,” Hannibal sighs, his breath hot against his ear. “Beautiful, Will. So beautiful,” he praises as Will thrusts up desperately, turning his face to bring their mouths together over his shoulder.

Will feels his balls draw up, his abdomen clenching as Hannibal works him more quickly, and then he’s coming. He has to tear his mouth away from Hannibal’s as he sobs through it, aftershocks of pleasure making his body convulse as Hannibal keeps milking him. Hannibal lets go as Will settles down, resting his full weight against Hannibal’s chest. “Fuck,” Will moans, gliding his hands behind him to trail along Hannibal’s hip bones.

He turns in Hannibal’s arms, palming the sides of his face so he can drag him down for a hot kiss, licking into his mouth and suckling on his tongue. Hannibal groans through it, kneading the flesh of Will’s ass as he does. 

Will pulls away eventually, tucking his head under Hannibal’s chin and wrapping his arms around his waist, just holding him. Hannibal presses a kiss to the side of his head, threading his fingers through his wet curls. “Let me wash your hair, Will.”

Will nods against him, reluctantly stepping away so Hannibal can lather shampoo into his hair, caressing his skull gently with his fingertips. “I’ve always wanted to do this for you,” he confesses softly. “Your curls are a fascination for me. I was so heartbroken after your incarceration when you cut them off.”

Will grins as his head is tipped back into the spray, Hannibal’s fingers working the suds from his hair gently. “And there I was, imagining what form would be the most alluring to you. All I could imagine was a close haircut and pressed shirts. Little did I know all those years ago that you liked me scruffy and rumpled. It would have saved me a lot of money not buying all those clothes.”

Hannibal is silent as he shuts the water off, and Will reaches for the towels at the other end of the shower stall, wrapping one around Hannibal’s shoulders, then one around himself. 

Will doesn’t notice his silence, assuming it’s from the busyness of drying off and brushing teeth. It’s only once they’re done and Will is taking out the medical supplies to remove his stitches that he notices Hannibal’s face. “What did I do?” he asks with a sigh.

Hannibal leans against the side of the counter in his towel while Will takes out the medical scissors and tweezers. “I had always assumed your change in appearance was because you were feeling better after treatment. I hadn’t realized it was specifically to lure me. So, you were aware that I desired you, and you used it against me.”

“I didn’t have to be empathetic to know that you did. I could feel your eyes on me, I knew you looked at my ass every chance you got. I know you touched me as much as you did just to have your hands on me. Let me ask you this. All those years ago, while we were in Baltimore, did you ever… smell my arousal? I didn’t know you could do such a thing then, and I know quite a few times where your proximity caused it.”

Hannibal licks his lips as Will settles onto his knees, snipping the stitches loose and tugging them out gently. “I… was aware of it, yes. I believe it’s why you were able to fool me so completely. It’s not your come that I’m smelling, Will. Although I do smell that too, if you’re aroused enough. It’s your pheromones that I’m scenting. Yours are particularly potent, especially when I’m near. I used to touch you as often as I did and invade your personal space because I wanted to trigger it so I could bask in it.”

Will’s blush has traveled to his hairline, and he clears his throat as he continues removing stitches. “Jesus, that’s… mortifying. Okay, well… is the scent still the same? Is it the same as Baltimore?”

Hannibal tips his head, considering that. “It’s the same, but it’s gotten more intense. It’s… sated, almost. I don’t know how else to describe it. It’s my favorite scent, and it’s why I hate when you cover it with cologne or aftershave. You don’t need it.”

“The point I’m trying to make is that yeah, initially I was trying to lure you, and it was a dick move. I lied about Freddie Lounds, and that was shitty, too. But everything else, Hannibal… Everything else I told you, everything else I shared… all of that was real. All of it was genuine, even if I couldn’t admit it to myself, yet. The only reason I never pushed for more was because of Alana. She made me question the emotions I was picking up from you. I wasn’t sure if you just had an appreciation of my… uh, physique, I guess? Or if your feelings delved deeper than that. If she hadn’t been in the picture, I would’ve made a move on you.”

Hannibal groans, swiping his face with his hands. “I should have ended things with her the moment you were out of prison. Or, I should have never started anything with her in the first place.”

“I wish that, too,” Will whispers as he finishes removing the stitches from his abdomen. “Turn around, please.”

Hannibal turned, facing the bathroom mirror as Will began snipping out the stitches on his back. “Why didn’t you act on it regardless? Take the chance?”

Will sighs, taking a moment to trail his fingers into the dip of Hannibal’s spine. “I didn’t know if my attraction to you was just a reflection of how you felt about me. I’ve never looked at another man and wanted them, before you. I’ve never gotten an erection thinking about someone else’s cock. It made me question it. There were so many times, though, where your proximity, your touch and your voice… I would have tested it. I wanted to test it. It was only after you were gone that I realized that my feelings for you were my own. I still ached for you, and you weren’t around for me to be empathizing with. That sucked to figure out, by the way.”

“Your gifts are so extraordinary. I forget how different it makes you from everyone else, sometimes. Is attraction to others something you usually struggle with?”

“I won’t be struggling anymore. I am so fucking attracted to you, there will never be anyone else, Hannibal,” he admits softly as he finishes removing the stitches. He leans forward and presses a kiss into the dimple of his lower spine, tracing his tongue through the divot of flesh before he stands up and crowds the older man against the counter, looking at him through the mirror over his shoulder. “It was a problem for a long time, though. If someone was attracted to me, and I liked them as a person, l felt their attraction and it became my own for them. It’s always made me suspicious, and it’s why I was always alone. I don’t like being with someone because it’s nice that they’re attracted to me. It never lasted, even on the rare occasions when I would date, because eventually I’d pick up on how weird they thought I was. It usually fizzled out pretty quickly after they got to know me.”

Hannibal smooths his fingers over Will’s hands as they rest on his hips, locking his eyes with Will’s in the mirror. “I want to tell you that I feel sorry that your past relationships failed, but I don’t. Do you ever pick up errant feelings from me? Ones that make you… wary?”

Will laughs, “No, aside from a long time ago when you were trying to appeal to my darker nature. You’d be… frustrated with me sometimes. Never condescending, though. Why do you think I looked for your company so often after we first met? I’d never met anyone like you.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Hannibal sighs, tipping his head back to rest on Will’s shoulder. “I think I’ve got to rest. I wish I didn’t.”

Will presses a kiss to his shoulder, trailing his fingers up his stomach, then through his chest hair to scratch lightly at his chest. “You should. You’re still healing.”

Will steps away from him reluctantly, letting Hannibal go to the bedroom where he fishes out clean pajama pants and pulls them on. Will digs through the same drawer and pulls on a pair of Hannibal’s sleep shorts, earning an approving look from the older man as he settles into the sheets. 

“I’m going to do some laundry. Maybe try to fix the door they kicked in. I won’t be far, though.”

Hannibal nods, his eyes closing with a sigh. “Thank you, Will.”

Will goes to the bed, leaning over him to press a kiss to his cheekbone, “You’re welcome, Hannibal.”

Hannibal smiles in his sleep, tipping his head against the pillow. Will fights the desire to climb into the bed with him.

He goes back into the bathroom and wraps his bicep with clean gauze and an antibiotic cream, then heads downstairs. 

There’s at least five loads of laundry, including all the bedding and clothes he had in the trunk of the Bentley. It keeps Will busy; the fluffing and folding, the mindlessness of changing the loads. His sleep schedule is completely thrown off, and he knows already that he’ll be awake for Hannibal’s one am medication time. Between loads of laundry, he goes to the study and sits at Hannibal’s desk, a tight feeling in his chest that they’d never get to settle here. Only a few days ago he wanted nothing more than to leave this house, but having that decision taken from him makes him angry. He’d have to stock his boat again. Get it ready for another long trip that wouldn’t be as pleasant as the easy sail to Cuba. 

He wants to get the boat ready as soon as possible, stocking it full of food and making the bed. He won’t be making the mistake of leaving Hannibal here while he does it, this time. With Hannibal’s condition, it would have to wait at least a few days before they could go. The thought alone makes Will anxious, as anyone could be coming for them. Alana may have promised, but so did he, and he intends to get revenge. He has to assume she would, too.

Instead, he busies himself with folding the bedsheets for the boat, and packing away the towels and facecloths, too. He sets aside a few grab bags of dried food, and bottled water. Things he can grab quickly, and they’d be on their way in minutes. 

If there was another situation like this one, Hannibal wouldn’t survive it. Failing him wasn’t an option. 

He packs the trunk of the Bentley with the sheets, towels, dried foods, and bottled waters, trying to consider what else they’d need. He goes to the main bathroom, packing up all the extra toilet paper, as well as a bag of bar soaps and shampoos. He has razors in the cabinet on the boat already.

All they’d need is a bag of clothes each, and they were in the dryer. Once that was done, he’d feel more at ease. They could stop somewhere off the coast of Florida for produce and fresh ingredients if the situation was critical enough.

He’d need Hannibal’s medications, and he figures he can keep them by the door. They could grab them on their way out, if something happened. 

His stomach was in knots, worrying that something would happen. 

He goes into the crimson nightmare of a dining room, rummaging through the bar there until he found a bottle of whiskey. He shouldn’t do it, but his hands were shaking with anxiety, and Hannibal was sleeping… so.

He pours himself a few fingers of whiskey, throwing it back much more quickly than he should have, and immediately pours himself a few fingers more. He takes his time with the second glass, worrying that someone could come in at any moment and he’d be too drunk to defend Hannibal. Too sloppy to protect what was his.

He puts his glass down, sighing as he rubs his fingers over his face. He has to relax. Panicking wasn’t going to help anyone, and it wouldn’t make Hannibal feel better about the length of his recovery.

The alarm on his phone went off at one am, and he grabs a bottled water from the fridge to bring to Hannibal so he could take his meds.

He sat gently to the side of his hip, leaning over the older man to press a kiss to his mouth, allowing his tongue to flick softly at his lips. Hannibal’s eyebrows furrow in his sleep, his mouth twisting lightly with the soft press of Will’s mouth against his. Hannibal’s eyes blinked open, and Will felt him smile against his lips, his mouth softly pressing back in return. Will pulls away only slightly, smiling as Hannibal leans forward to press his mouth to Will’s again. “You woke me with that lovely mouth of yours,” he whispers softly.

“Figured it was time I made good on that promise,” Will grins, leaning back in for another soft kiss. 

“Have you been drinking?” Hannibal asks, his lips pursing as his eyes wander towards Will’s mouth.

Will leans away, his eyes darting to the empty side of the bed. “Just a few fingers of whiskey,” he says slowly while uncapping the water bottle and handing it to Hannibal.

Hannibal takes his pills, settling back into the pillows as he stares at Will. “What’s wrong?”

Will gnaws his bottom lip, shaking his head. “Nothing. I just… haven’t had a drink in weeks. I was in the mood. It’s nothing, Hannibal. Really.”

“Are we going to start lying to one another now? Is this the beginning of you retreating from me, Will?” Hannibal asks desolately. 

“No,” Will sighs, reaching over Hannibal’s hip to brace his arm against the mattress. “I’m… I don’t want to burden you, Hannibal. I don’t want… it’s nothing. It’s just anxiety. The usual shit for me.”

Hannibal pulls his arm from the blankets, trailing his fingers up Will’s bare forearm as it rests against his hip. “It’s not a burden, Will. Tell me, please. There was a point where you felt comfortable telling me everything, which makes me assume this specific anxiety has to do with me.”

Will shakes his head, shifting on the bed in his discomfort. “It’s not you, and it is. If something like this happens again in the next few days, you won’t survive it. I don’t know what I’ll do, Hannibal. I can’t sleep because I’m worried someone will break the door down and kill you before I can wake up. When I eat, everything sits like lead in my gut because I’m terrified. We need to move on, but we can’t. It’s not your fault, and I know you’re taking it like it’s your fault. I don’t blame you for what I’ve done to you. I’ve done this to you. It’s my fault,” Will’s voice breaks just as swiftly as the dam that’s been holding back his guilt, and the ugly sob that tears from his throat sounds over-loud in the quiet bedroom. 

He sits back abruptly, pressing a shaking hand to his face to swipe at the tears that have escaped, his breath stuttering while he tries to press the emotions back into the box where they came from. Hannibal is watching him wearily, his mouth parted in surprise. “Our great red dragon shot me, Will. You didn’t shoot me. We took a tumble from the cliff, but the thing that almost killed me was the sepsis caused by the gunshot. It wasn’t your fault. Even if we hadn’t gone over, I would have needed to have surgery. Not very much of our story would have changed, even if you wouldn’t have thrown us to the sea.”

Will shakes his head, “I left you to go tend to my fucking boat, if-”

“-If you would have waited, then you would have been here when they came. The gun would have been on the boat, and we’d both be on our way to Alana right now. I’d very likely be dead. So, stop this. Stop tormenting yourself with eventualities that might have been. I am alive, Will. My heart beats because you’re too stubborn to let it stop. You’ve done everything you can. Come here, please.”

Will leaned forward, and Hannibal wrapped his arms around his shoulders while Will gripped his biceps desperately. Will heaved a sigh into his neck, pressing a kiss to his pulse point while Hannibal rubbed soothing circles along his spine. “If it would ease your mind, we could leave tomorrow. If I am well enough to lay here, then I am well enough to lay in bed on the boat.”

Will pulls away enough to press a kiss to his cheek, letting his lips linger for a moment before pulling away. “The seas would be rougher, heading to France. We’d need to make smarter choices about water usage. Before we go, I’d want to check the weather and make sure we won’t be sailing through any big storms. We’d need to go to the grocery store, and I really don’t feel comfortable being away from you.”

“When we wake up tomorrow, we’ll worry about it. Come to bed, Will. I sleep better when you’re beside me.”

Will sighs as he goes around the bed to climb in on the other side, shifting his weight over so he could wrap his arms gently around Hannibal’s middle. “I know you mostly said that to guilt me into coming to bed.”

Hannibal chuckles tiredly, wrapping his arm around Will’s shoulders. “It worked, did it not?”

Will hums as he rests his cheek against Hannibal’s chest, pressing a kiss there just because. “Manipulative, Doctor Lecter.”

“Maybe,” Hannibal agrees with a sigh. “It’s also the truth.”

Will didn’t think he’d actually sleep, but the sound of Hannibal’s heart under his ear, and the scent of his skin under his nose soothed him, and he drifted into unconsciousness.


	13. Chapter 13

_“Strange that such a small kindness felt like grace.”  
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles_

When Will wakes up the next morning, he knows he slept soundly. He feels well rested as he stretches, chuckling at how entangled he is in Hannibal’s body. Their legs are twined, and their arms are wrapped around each other. Will’s face is tucked into his throat, their chests flush against one another. Hannibal’s face was pressed into his curls, his nose stirring them softly with his breath.

“Is something humorous?” Hannibal asks gruffly while his fingers trail idly against Will’s shoulder.

“We are ridiculous,” Will sighs, snuggling deeper into Hannibal’s throat to suck at the skin there. “I used to despise unnecessary touching, especially when I was sleeping. This…” he sighs, arching against Hannibal’s body softly, “is very unusual for me.”

“I never thought you’d be like this, either,” Hannibal admits softly, inhaling the scent of Will’s hair under his nose. “I’ve been awake for at least an hour now, wondering what I’ve done to deserve you. You snore, a bit. It’s so unreasonably charming, Will.”

“I was probably snoring because I was suffocating myself in your neck,” Will laughs, tugging himself free enough to lean up and slant their mouths together softly.

Hannibal sighs as their mouths part, their tongues sliding softly while their bodies press more fully against one another. As much as Will would like nothing more than to lay in bed and do this all day, they had a lot to do.

He pulls away reluctantly, licking his lips. “We have a big day today. I am so sorry for how miserable it’s going to be for you.”

“It’s fine, Will. I’ll be alright.” Hannibal sits up from the bed slowly, pressing a hand to his side, and heads into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Will climbs out of bed reluctantly, glancing around the room to memorize it. They had just slept in this house for the last time, and Will felt… deprived of all the memories they’d never get to make, here.

After going down the hall to use the guest bathroom, he heads back to the bedroom to pack a duffel bag with clothes he’d need for the boat, as well as a bag for Hannibal, too. Hannibal emerges from the bathroom some time later with a towel around his waist, freshly showered and shaved, looking much better than he had the day before.

He goes to the end table and takes his pills, foregoing the Motrin, this time. Will smiles as he packs the bags, pleased to see that Hannibal was getting stronger.

Hannibal rummages through his drawers, tugging on a pair of boxer briefs and linen slacks, turning to Will as he does. “We should check the boat thoroughly for any additional tracking devices. Just to be safe.”

Will nods, gathering clothes for himself to shower, too. “I will be going over that God damned boat with a fine-tooth comb, Hannibal.”

Will meets Hannibal in the kitchen after his shower, bringing the bags of clothes and medications from the bathroom with him. Hannibal is sipping a coffee, stirring eggs in a pan with his other hand. Just seeing him doing something so ordinary brings an ache to Will’s chest, and Will walks around to wrap his arms around his waist, sliding his palms up his chest as he presses a kiss to his shoulder. “It’s so good to see you moving around,” Will sighs. “It’s so good to see you being you.”

Hannibal chuckles, reaching to drop his mug to the counter so he could run his fingers over Will’s hands. “It’s just eggs, Will. Nothing to become overwrought about.”

Will hums, sliding his hands lower to rest on Hannibal’s hipbones, trailing his thumbs softly inward, tracing the shape of his cock in his slacks. “Will,” Hannibal breathes, moving the eggs from the burner and shutting it off.

Will sighs, stepping away from Hannibal reluctantly to go in search of coffee. “Sorry,” he mumbles, reaching for a coffee mug in the cabinet.

They finish their breakfast, cleaning up the kitchen after they do. Hannibal goes to the car, settling into the passenger seat wearily while Will packs the bags they are taking into the trunk with the rest of the things he’s packed away. 

They head to the grocery store, and Will leaves Hannibal in the car with the doors locked and the gun loaded while he runs in to get essentials. “Kill anyone who comes up to the car. Don’t fucking hesitate, Hannibal.”

Hannibal nods, leaning forward to press a kiss to Will’s mouth. “Don’t worry, Will. I’ll be right here.”

Will walks briskly through the store, stocking up on some fresh produce and meats, as well as canned goods and dry ingredients. He buys several cases of bottled water, as well as a few gallons of water just in case.

They’re at the marina just before three, and Will helps Hannibal down the dock, getting him into the boat that he’s left tied to the end, not in his designated space. As he helps Hannibal below deck, an attendant comes to speak to him about where he’s parked his boat in broken English, and Will assures him he won’t ever do it again. 

Will makes several trips with all the stuff from the trunk, breathing a sigh of relief when all of it is finally on board. He puts away the perishable food first, then makes the bed with fresh sheets and blankets, letting Hannibal settle into the bed with a sigh. 

Will goes above deck and opens every cabinet, as well as feels along every bannister for another tracking device. He looks under the benches, as well as around the cockpit, but there’s nothing. He goes below deck, noting that Hannibal is sleeping soundly, and then tears through the cabin with the same fierce inspection as he did above deck.

He doesn’t find anything.

He sighs in relief as he goes above deck, fluffing out the sails and untying the boat from the dock, kicking the motor on as he adjusts the throttle to get them out of the marina. He hoped this would be the last time they’d have to make such a journey. All he longed for was to settle somewhere with Hannibal. They deserved at least a moment of happiness.

Will sails for a few hours, going below deck at five to wake Hannibal and give him his pills. Hannibal wakes briefly, sipping the bottled water only enough to get them down before he’s out again. Will goes back above deck, and sails long into the night. 

The sky is crystal clear in the open ocean. The velvet blackness spattered with endless, brilliant, stars. The moon is only a sliver in the sky, illuminating the stars more brightly. Will is hungry, but the calm waters and breathtaking sky keep him sailing despite his stomach’s demand to eat.

The cabin door opens gently, and Hannibal emerges with two plates, looking sleep rumpled and delicious. “You must be starving,” he says quietly. “I certainly was.”

Will blushes, taking the plate of chicken and rice gratefully. “I’m sorry, Hannibal. Fuck, I should have cooked something. I… didn’t even think to.”

“It was no bother,” Hannibal assures him, settling into the vinyl bench to eat. “I feel very well rested.”

“You look good,” Will says softly while spearing a piece of tender chicken on his fork.

“I feel even better,” Hannibal smirks while taking a bite of his food.

They eat in silence, both too hungry to consider talking until their stomachs are full. Will sighs once he finishes, a tiny belch escaping his lips and he chuckles. “Sorry, excuse me.”

“Compliments to the chef, I suppose,” Hannibal laughs.

Will drops anchor and takes their plates, going below deck to put them in the sink and grab a bottled water as well as Hannibal’s pills, as it’s nearly one am. He grabs the blanket from the bed, too, and goes back above deck.

Will puts the meds and water to the side of the bench, settling himself in the cushion beside Hannibal, tucking himself against his side and fluffing the blanket over their laps. It’s not cold, really, but it feels good.

“I haven’t looked at the stars like this in years,” Hannibal says softly, wrapping his arm around Will’s waist and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I’ve forgotten how beautiful it is.”

Will feels a flare of guilt in his chest, an ache that he thinks will tear him from the inside for the rest of his life. “We’ll look at them every night for the rest of our lives. I swear it, Hannibal.”

They sit wrapped in each other’s arms for a long while just enjoying the ocean breeze and the peaceful quiet of the night. “I thought of you every moment I was away,” Hannibal says softly.

Will turns in his arms and presses a kiss to the base of his throat, running his palm up his chest. “I ached for you, Hannibal. Every moment. You asked if it was good to see me that day, and I told you it wasn’t…” Will swallows tightly, gripping Hannibal’s shirt in his fist. “It was horrible seeing you in a cage, knowing I couldn’t take back what I had done. Knowing I would never have you. The guilt I felt crushed me. I didn’t want to see you in a plastic box. I wanted to touch you. I wanted to have you, and I didn’t think I ever would get that chance again.”

Hannibal is silent for a few moments, his fingers wandering softly against Will’s bicep. “It would have been nice to hear that.”

“What good would it have been?” Will asks softly. “To torture you? To make you more miserable than your incarceration already made you? I didn’t want to tease you, or make you think I was manipulating you. I thought it would be easier to just… let you go.”

“You didn’t let me go, Will. I’ve been yours for as long as I can remember.”

Will sits up abruptly, shifting his body around so he could straddle Hannibal’s waist. Hannibal grunts with the shift in their seating arrangement, tugging Will’s thighs to press him closer while their mouths devour one another’s. Their hands are dragging over one another’s chests and arms, while their tongues slide softly and desperately. Hannibal tugs the hem of Will’s tee shirt up, and Will lets him slide it off his body, pausing their kissing only to get the shirt over his head. Will reaches for the buttons of Hannibal’s sleep shirt, undoing them with shaking hands while his mouth wanders to Hannibal’s jaw, then his throat. 

He doesn’t bother taking Hannibal’s shirt off, he just slides the fabric out of the way enough to glide his fingers through coarse chest hair, taking care to avoid the stitches on Hannibal’s shoulder as he does. Will knows this won’t be going any further than this, but he doesn’t care. He just wants to savor Hannibal in any way that he can.

Hannibal is the one that pulls away eventually, licking his swollen lips and looking up at Will with dark eyes. “I’d like to try something,” he says softly, his voice guttural.

Will presses his forehead to Hannibal’s breathing him in. “Anything, Hannibal.”

“Take your clothes off, please.”

Will stands slowly, unbuttoning his shorts and sliding them down his hips, taking his underwear with them. He toes his shoes off as well as his socks, kicking them away.

Hannibal’s eyes are appraising as they slide over Will’s body, and Will resists the urge to tug at his aching cock that is throbbing for attention from the gorgeous man across from him.

Hannibal pats the seat next to him, licking his lips as he does. “Kneel here, face away from me.”

Will blushes as he climbs onto the narrow bench, kneeling on one knee, facing away from Hannibal who inches closer behind him, trailing soft fingers along his spine. “On your elbows, Will.”

Will closes his eyes as he shifts his weight, resting on his knees and elbows on the bench. He’s blushing furiously, completely aware of what Hannibal is eye level with, at the moment. He groans as Hannibal presses kisses to the base of his spine, kneading the flesh of his ass as he does. Hannibal pulls the cheeks of his ass apart, and Will presses his face into his arms to hide his mortification. 

“You’ve nothing to be ashamed of,” Hannibal says softly, pressing wet kisses to the cheeks of his ass. “You are so unbelievably magnificent. My Will,” he sighs.

His tongue flicks gently against Will’s entrance, and Will bucks against the sensation. He’s moaning by the time Hannibal presses in again, this time with a much more demanding tongue, flicking against him and pressing in gently, making love to the most intimate part of him with his mouth.

It feels so fucking good that Will lifts up on his elbows, shifting his weight back against the wet tongue as it probes him. It’s so soft and gentle that Will wants it to never end and wants to demand more at the same time.

The noises coming from Hannibal’s throat are distractingly hot, and Will shifts his hips, pressing back against Hannibal’s face eagerly while Hannibal’s tongue slips in and out of him softly. Hannibal pulls away, pressing his index finger against his wet hole, pressing in as gently as he can while his mouth trails lower to suckle at his perineum, and then his testicles.

The stretch of his finger is a little strange. It doesn’t feel specifically good, or bad. It’s just Hannibal, and the thought alone makes it intense. Every touch from Hannibal felt like it came with an electrical current, intense energy snapping between their connected flesh. It was exhilarating.

Hannibal’s mouth travels back up, lapping where his finger has slid in, and then he’s pressing another finger in, tonguing softly while he stretches Will with two fingers.

Will arches against the sensation, looking for more, and Hannibal gives it to him.

His fingers crook gently inside, brushing against his prostate, and the raw noise that escapes Will’s mouth aches his throat. White-hot flares of pleasure rock through him with every gentle brush of his fingers against the spot inside, and Will’s hips rock against them eagerly, wanting more of it. Wanting more of Hannibal.

“I wish I could bury myself inside of you,” Hannibal says softly, leaning over Will’s backside to press damp kisses against the dimples of his lower back. “You are so tight, and so eager. My God, Will.”

Hannibal reaches around his waist, wrapping his long fingers around Will’s cock and jerking him out of time with the brushes against his prostate. The pleasure of it is endless, and Will doesn’t know whether he should rock into Hannibal’s palm or against Hannibal’s fingers. 

“You feel so fucking good,” Will moans, his whole body broken out in a sweat. “Hannibal,” he sighs.

Hannibal presses his fingers inside to the hilt, crooking them and massaging that spot inside of him, jerking his cock more purposefully, and Will sobs as he comes, the pleasure so intense it feels like lighting arching across his body as it shakes apart.

Will collapses to the bench, but Hannibal is still stroking him purposefully inside, and Will’s body is tremoring from over-stimulation. “Oh, fuck,” Will sobs, his legs shaking as he tenses up. He’s trying to suck air into his lungs, but he can’t. 

“I’m not done with you,” Hannibal warns him while his fingers keep massaging that spot. Will isn’t capable of speech, he’s just moaning and sobbing through it when Hannibal reaches for his spent cock again, tugging it roughly while his fingers keep pressing.

He’s aware that Hannibal is biting at his ass, nipping love-bites against the skin, but he’s not able to really feel it. The pleasured pain of everything else Hannibal is doing is tearing him apart, and he’s sobbing as his body convulses through another orgasm, his cock leaking against the vinyl bench.

His legs give out, and Hannibal pulls his fingers from his body as gently as he can, reaching around Will’s shoulders to tug him up and wrap his arms around Will’s body. Will leans against him, tipping his head back on his shoulder as he pants. Hannibal chuckles, pressing kisses to his sweat-damp temple while Will’s body tremors through after-shocks.

Will makes a devastated little noise in the back of his throat, tipping his face toward Hannibal, who presses their mouths together over Will’s shoulder. Will pulls away enough to turn in his arms, tipping Hannibal’s face towards his so he can deepen the kiss. 

Will’s hand drops curiously to Hannibal’s lap, noting there was a mild interest in what just happened, but not enough. Hannibal pulls away, his mouth twisting gently. “I’m sorry, Will. Two pain pills at five made me completely useless.”

Will snorts, and it’s probably not the best reaction to have, but his brain is fried. “This was you being useless? Jesus,” he sighs exhaustedly. “Don’t worry about it, Hannibal. A few days from now, maybe a week, and I’ll be fucking you senseless. Just you wait,” he chuckles.

“I need to take my medications,” Hannibal sighs reluctantly, untangling their bodies enough to reach for his bottled water and his pills.

“You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?” Will asks softly.

“No, I’m fine. Maybe ready for bed again, but just fine.”

Will stands to tug his shorts back on, his legs still shaking from aftershocks. “Hey,” Will says quietly, tipping Hannibal’s face up once he’s done taking his pills. “Don’t get frustrated, okay? Soon, Hannibal. Very fucking soon,” he promises, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips. 

Hannibal takes a deep breath, tugging his top lip between his teeth. “I’m doing my best to not be, it’s difficult when you are spread before me like a feast, and it feels as though my mouth is sewn shut. I’m frustrated. When they came, I had been off the pain pills, and planned to stay that way. It’s… I’m….”

Hannibal made a wounded noise in the back of his throat, tipping his face up to look at the stars again. He doesn’t bother trying to finish his thought, and Will leans over to press their lips together while his fingers slide along his strong jawline, then the soft hair at the nape of his neck. Will pulls away to press a kiss to his high cheekbone, and he feels Hannibal smile under his palm. “Let’s go to bed, please. I am absolutely wrecked right now, and I need a bed with you in it.”

Hannibal chuckles, getting up from the bench with a hand pressed to his side. “That could be considered manipulative, too. I know you only said that to make me feel better.”

They go below deck and climb into the sheets, where Hannibal immediately rolls to Will's side of the bed to wrap an arm around his waist and rest his face against his chest. Will's heart thuds in his chest as he tentatively wraps his arm around Hannibal's shoulders. It's the first time Hannibal has initiated sleeping like this, and Will is almost at a loss for words. He presses soft kisses to Hannibal's forehead, sweeping the hair away that's fallen across his brow. He wants to tell Hannibal he loves him. He wants to tell him that he really does sleep better when he's near, but the clot of tears in his throat prevent him from speaking. 

He hears Hannibal’s breathing even out. The soft, heavy, breaths of deep sleep settling over him. Hannibal’s fingers grip his waist gently in his sleep, while his face tips softly against his skin of his chest. Even in sleep Hannibal adores him, and it makes Will feel like splitting himself open so Hannibal can live in his chest, right next to his heart that he owns so thoroughly anyway. He’s not sure why Hannibal hasn’t initiated contact like this before now. Maybe it has to do with his injuries, maybe it has to do with Will always sliding over to him the moment they’re in bed. He has an idea, though, that for a long time, the reason behind it was because Hannibal didn’t want to deal with more rejection.

Will swallows tightly, knowing immediately that is the actual reason for it. Hannibal initiated this, and Will knows it’s because the older man is finally comfortable in Will’s love for him. Hannibal finally understands that Will isn’t going to leave, or send him away, or anything else. The feeling makes Will’s throat feel tight and his chest ache, not in melancholy, but in relief.

A simple gesture like this is all Will needed to know that Hannibal forgives him. Maybe possibly fully understands that Will belongs to him as much as he belongs to Will. 

Will wants to wake him up and devour him. He wants to nip and bite at every inch of his skin and mark him with his mouth. He wants to bury himself inside of Hannibal’s body and claim him, leaving a bit of himself so deeply inside of Hannibal that even his insides are marked as Will’s property.

He also wants to hold Hannibal in his arms and pepper him with sweet kisses, tasting his skin with soft lips and tongue. He wants to taste Hannibal in the same way that he did Will earlier on deck. He wants it with a fierceness that tugs low in his gut, the faintest stirring of arousal making him twitch under the sheets.

He takes a settling breath, and presses another soft kiss to Hannibal’s temple instead, allowing his lips to linger there while his fingers trace the edge of Hannibal’s shirt over his bicep. He finally allows sleep to settle over him with the knowledge that they had time for both, now.


	14. Chapter 14

_“He is half of my soul, as the poets say.”  
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles_

He wakes up before Hannibal, heading into the bathroom to take care of his morning routine and then start a pot of coffee. The soft man on the bed has wrapped himself around Will’s pillow while he was gone, and when Will notices it, he climbs back in bed behind Hannibal to wrap his arms around him and tug him close.

Hannibal sighs in his sleep while Will undoes the buttons of his sleep shirt, sliding his fingers inside to card through his chest hair and tease a nipple to stiffness with his finger. He inhales deeply against Hannibal’s throat, suckling the skin there softly, then tugs his earlobe into his mouth to flick it with his tongue. 

Hannibal arches against his body, tipping his head to give Will more room. Will takes the offer, trailing his mouth down the soft curve of his neck, dragging his stubble against the tender skin. Hannibal moans, and the sound goes straight to Will’s cock, which he presses delightfully against Hannibal’s ass. 

His body is so warm and pliant against Will that it takes all of Will’s strength not to pounce. Instead, he keeps himself in check by continuing his gentle exploration with his hand and mouth, thrusting softly against the delicious ass that’s pressed against him. Hannibal chuckles tiredly, tipping his face up to ask for a kiss, which Will gives him eagerly. Will pulls away to grip Hannibal’s hip, pressing himself sinfully against Hannibal’s backside, moaning at the delicious friction of it. “I could get used to waking up like this,” Hannibal admits gruffly, pressing his backside more fully against him.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Will sighs against the shell of his ear, flicking it softly with his tongue. “I have every intention of waking you like this for the rest of my life.”

“Did you bring the forty gallons of lube you bought?” Hannibal asks with a chuckle. 

Will blushes, hiding his face in Hannibal’s throat as he laughs. “I did, yeah. Why?”

“Get it,” Hannibal rasps softly, arching against him deliciously.

Will untangles himself from Hannibal reluctantly, reaching for the heavy duffle bag to the side of the bed and tugging it open, removing one bottle before turning back to Hannibal. “What are we doing with this, exactly?”

“Take your pants off,” Hannibal instructs him, still facing away from Will while he tugs his pajama pants off, too.

Will slides his off his hips, tugging himself quickly to relieve the tension before he slides back against Hannibal’s body, moaning as his cock is trapped between the cheeks of his ass. “Lube yourself, please.”

Will hesitates, gnawing his bottom lip as he considers the request. “I don’t think we should… uh, … You’re not ready to do that, I don’t think.”

“I agree, but we aren’t doing that. Slick yourself and slide between my thighs.”

Will moans as he does what he’s told, slicking his cock liberally before pressing against the skin of Hannibal’s thighs, sliding into the tight pressure, shuddering when he feels the head of his cock nudge behind Hannibal’s balls. “Oh, fuck,” Will moans, sliding gently in the tight heat of it, gripping Hannibal’s hip roughly. Will leans over him, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to the side of his throat as he thrusts in the wet heat, groaning every time his sensitive head presses behind Hannibal’s balls. 

Hannibal squeezes his thighs together more tightly, and Will thrusts harshly into the delicious constriction, his lazy pace growing more fevered. 

He reaches around Hannibal curiously, finding him semi-erect and wraps his fingers around him, stroking him softly in time with his thrusts. Hannibal sighs, tipping his head back to rest against Will’s shoulder, and Will feels his length stiffen in his palm. He uncaps the lube and pours a bit into his palm before wrapping his fingers around Hannibal’s length again.

The slickness of it makes Hannibal moan, and Will jerks him purposefully as he thrusts into the heat between his legs, pressing kisses to his long neck. Hannibal wraps his fingers around Will’s fist, showing him what he likes, and Will pays attention. He slicks the head, squeezing it gently and allows Hannibal to thrust minutely into the slick of his fingers. He presses his thumb to the slit, rolling the pad of it gently against the head before sliding back down and jerking him roughly, the sounds of wet lube and harsh breathing echoing in the small room. 

He feels so good in Will’s arms. The feel of him as he slides sinfully between his thighs is incredible. 

Will knows he’s close, by the ache in his gut and the way his balls have drawn up. He doesn’t want to come between Hannibal’s thighs, though, as these are the only bedsheets they have, and they can’t be showering everyday like last time. He pulls out abruptly, tugging his tee shirt from the side of the bed as he works himself through a few tugs, arching as he spills into the tee shirt with a low moan. 

Hannibal turns onto his back, his mouth pursed with distaste as he looks at Will. “I didn’t get to see you or feel you finish. How incredibly unthoughtful,” he chastises while Will cleans the excess lube from Hannibal’s cock. 

“We have only these sheets,” he chuckles. “And we can’t be showering every five minutes because we’re covered in come. Forgive me, please.”

Will settles between his legs, dropping kisses to his abdomen, then his hips. He wraps his lips around Hannibal’s length, dropping over him and suckling him deep in the back of his throat, swallowing around the head a few times and humming. 

Hannibal’s low moan seems to imply forgiveness, and Will bobs over him roughly, savoring the salty tang of Hannibal in his mouth. “Will,” he sighs reverently while his long fingers tangle in the riot of curls on his head. Will lets him thrust into the back of his throat, Will loosening his jaw so he won’t gag or drag his teeth by accident. 

Will reaches under him, spreading his thighs wider while his mouth continues its attentions, lubing his finger and pressing it gently against Hannibal’s entrance. Hannibal stiffens under him, his thighs spreading slowly to make more room for Will between them. Will presses in, and the unbelievable constriction around just a single finger makes Will moan around him, suckling roughly for a moment to work through the startling discovery. Will presses in, and when he thinks it’s good enough, he slides one more finger inside.

Hannibal’s long moan as Will devours him and scissors him open is one that Will puts in his memory palace. It’s debauched and heady, the gravelly sound more of a vibration than an actual noise. Will tries to remember how Hannibal had quirked his fingers, testing several different angles, looking for a reaction.

He twists his fingers up, and Hannibal chokes out a moan, thrusting desperately into Will’s throat and making him gag enough to pull back a bit. He smirks around the head of Hannibal’s cock, delighted that he found it.

He brushes his fingers softly against the spot while Hannibal writhes on the sheets, twisting his fingers into Will’s hair desperately. Will’s mouth works him more purposefully, while he presses the spot inside and massages it roughly, and Hannibal comes undone.

The loud, keening moan echoes around the cabin while Will milks his cock with his mouth, swallowing each hot rope of come that floods his mouth. He does better this time, and none leaks out or makes a mess, and Will takes pride in it while he savors the incredibly heady feeling of taking Hannibal apart like this.

He doesn’t want to push him too far, though, so he slides his fingers from Hannibal gently as he comes down from his orgasm and slides his lips from his cock once he’s finished twitching against his tongue.

Hannibal is panting and sweaty against the sheets, his skin flushed and gorgeous in the early morning light. Will climbs up the bed and presses his mouth to Hannibal’s plush lips, allowing the older man to taste himself in Will’s mouth.

Hannibal moans, his tongue gliding against Will’s and savoring their combined taste. Hannibal pulls away after a few moments, licking his lips. “You learn quickly,” he says with a chuckle.

Will hums, leaning forward to press his lips to his cheekbone, his favorite place to put his mouth, if he’s being honest. He loves the lines of Hannibal’s face, adores the cut of his cheekbones and strong jaw. He could look at him and find something new to love every time he does. “I wanted to put my mouth on you like you did to me last night,” he admits, gliding his bottom lip along Hannibal’s cheek. “I wanted it more than I can possibly tell you.”

Hannibal grins under him, his long fingers sliding along the sharp edges of Will’s jawline. “If showering is going to be a rare occurrence, it might be best to wait for that.”

Will’s lips twist with annoyance, and he sighs. “When we get to France, then. We’ll shower and I will put my tongue inside of you for hours.”

“Will we unpack our bags, first?” Hannibal chuckles.

“No,” Will laughs. “You’re getting in the shower, and I’m probably going in with you. It might happen right there.”

“Delightful boy,” Hannibal praises with a grin. His face grows somber, his mouth twisting with a grimace as he adjusts himself on the mattress. “I need to ask something of you, and I don’t know how to do it.”

Will leans back, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. “Just ask me, Hannibal. Anything.”

Hannibal sighs, pressing a hand to his side. “I need to ask you for a small break in this… physicality. I can’t say no to you, I can’t resist you. I need you to be the one to stop me. I’m in… quite a bit of pain right now. I won’t heal if I keep pushing myself. I hate asking this of you, because I know how difficult it is for you to be intimate in the first place.”

Will blushes furiously, ducking his head and averting his eyes. He should have known better than to keep pushing, he thought. He’s actively furious with himself when Hannibal presses his palm to his hot cheek, tipping his face up to look into his eyes. “I want to, Will. I wanted you last night, I wanted you this morning, and I find myself wanting you, now. It’s my fault more than it is yours. I know I’m hurting myself, but your skin calls to me. I need you to be a voice of reason.”

“I’m sorry,” Will says softly, his face still hot with a blush. “I’ll refrain from… pushing you.”

“I’ll be furious when you say no to me,” Hannibal warns him, his mouth tipping into a frown. “Just ignore whatever I say. I’ll forgive you.”

Will nods, tipping his eyes away from Hannibal’s own. “Would you like breakfast?”

“I would, yes. Eggs and toast with a side of eggshells, please.”

Will grins in spite of himself, climbing from the bed to pull his pajama shorts back on. He goes to the bathroom and dampens a facecloth, coming back to the bed to clean the slick between Hannibal’s thighs gently. Hannibal watches him as he does, his eyes adoring as Will cleans his skin. “I love you, Hannibal,” Will says softly, biting his lip as he glances up at the older man.

Hannibal smiles softly, his eyes crinkling as they regard Will’s face. “You’re everything to me, Will. I love you so dearly.”

Will’s mouth quirks up into a smile, his cheeks heating in a blush. He stands from the bed, tossing the facecloth into the hamper to the side of the bed. 

He gets Hannibal a cup of coffee, and makes breakfast while Hannibal takes his pills, settling against the pillows as he sits against the headboard. Will can feel his eyes on him while he cooks, laughing as Will fishes a piece of eggshell out of the bowl with his fingers. Will glares up at him, his mouth quirked in a crooked grin as he pulls the shell out, flicking it into the sink.

Will takes their plates to the bed once he’s finished cooking, sitting at Hannibal’s knees as they eat their only mildly crunchy eggs. Hannibal reaches out with his hand to touch Will’s knee, and Will slides it from the bed, angling away from Hannibal discretely. Will can feel the ache that rolls off the older man with the gesture, and it breaks his heart to do it. Will takes their plates once they’re finished, cleaning the dishes as Hannibal settles against the mattress.

Will goes to the side of the bed and shifts his feet, looking down at Hannibal who looks completely exhausted. “I’m going above deck,” he says softly, his eyes settling somewhere over Hannibal’s shoulder. “I’ll be back later for your five o’clock meds. Rest, in the meantime.”

Hannibal nods, his eyes heavy on Will’s own as he turns and goes up the stairs, going above deck.

Will sets the sails and draws up the anchor, a heavy feeling in his gut as the boat cuts through the water. He’s taking it out on Hannibal, he knows he is. As if it’s his fault that Will keeps trying to fuck him through his recovery, causing him pain and lengthening his healing time. Will is furious with himself for being so selfish. He’s told Hannibal he wasn’t with him for his dick, and here he is, pressing himself against him endlessly. Touching him and begging for it, demanding attention that Hannibal will always give him, even if it’s killing him to do it.

Will sails for seven hours, the sun low on the horizon when he drops anchor and goes below deck. Hannibal is still sleeping, and Will takes out some salmon filets and gets them searing in a pan while he chops some zucchini and summer squash to sauté in another. Hannibal stirs with the lemony scent of searing fish, his nose sniffing as he sits up in the bed. “Hi,” Will says with a grin, adding garlic to the veggies as they cook.

“My beloved,” Hannibal sighs, rubbing a sleepy hand across his face. “That smells wonderful.”

“Good protein,” Will nods, flipping the fish to the other side and squeezing a lemon over the pan.

Hannibal hums, sitting up from the bed and going into the bathroom. Will finishes cooking, plating their dinner and placing it on the small kitchenette, grabbing forks and napkins to take to the table. Hannibal emerges a few minutes later and goes to the fridge to get a bottle of water, while Will settles for a cola.

They sit at the table and eat for a few minutes, Hannibal sighing at the flaky fish. “The lemon is good, Will.”

“It’s simple, but it’s how I usually cook fish that I catch. I can’t wait to go fishing,” he laments.

Hannibal reaches out a hand tentatively, ghosting his fingers across Will’s wrist, and Will shifts back, pulling his wrist out from his gentle grasp to continue eating. Will can feel the tension in the room. It feels heavy and suffocating, but he keeps eating and ignores it as best as he can.

He hears the sigh from Hannibal across the table as he pulls his hand away, but nothing is said as they keep eating. “Are you going above deck after dinner?” he asks.

Will nods, spearing a zucchini onto his fork. “Yeah, probably going to sail until your next dose. It keeps me busy.”

Hannibal sips his water, keeping his eyes on Will as he does. “Maybe I’ll join you?”

“I think you should rest,” Will replies immediately.

He hears Hannibal suck his teeth, settling back into eating for a few moments. They clear their plates, and Will stands to bring them to the sink, collecting their dishes as he goes. He washes them and dries them, cleaning the counters with a singular focus, ignoring the heavy gaze of the man that is still sitting at the kitchenette.

“Will, what’s wrong?”

Will pauses, glancing up at Hannibal briefly as he puts the dishes away. “Nothing, why?”

“You’ve not touched me at all since this morning.”

“Isn’t that what you asked me to do?” Will asks, and the harsh tone of his voice sounds insulted. “I’m going above deck. Don’t forget to take your pills, please.”

He goes above deck and his throat is tight as he pulls anchor. He hates himself for this, but he can’t seem to get a grip on himself. He knows Hannibal didn’t ask to be ignored. He asked for their carnality to take a few days off. It still stings Will, though, to know that Hannibal was in terrible pain while Will was mindlessly fucking him with his fingers and mouth. Will should know better, but he doesn’t. He’s selfish.

Will sails for a few hours, and his mood lightens as the sky darkens. The stars are back out in all their glory, and the ocean air is crisper now that they’re out over open ocean. The wind is good, and they’re cutting through the water at a good pace, and Will tips his face into the breeze, savoring the freedom of it.

He goes below deck at one am, anchoring the boat and settling the sails. Hannibal is sleeping soundly on his side, Will’s pillow under his cheek.

Will sighs as he looks at him, an ache settling in his chest at the sight of such a disciplined, violent, man cuddling into Will’s pillow, probably because it smelled of him. Will takes Hannibal’s open water bottle from the fridge and brings it to the bed, placing the bottle and his pills on the end table closer to Hannibal. He touches Hannibal’s shoulder briefly, and he blinks awake, stretching in the blankets. “Pills, Hannibal,” Will says softly.

Will shucks his shirt and changes into pajama shorts, climbing into Hannibal’s side of the bed and turning his body away from the older man as he takes his pills.

It feels strange, settling out into the bed without searching out Hannibal’s touch. Hannibal turns slowly, sighing as he looks at Will’s back. “Will,” he breathes, reaching a hand out to smooth over Will’s shoulder.

Will tenses under the touch, keeping his body still as Hannibal twists in the bed. Hannibal wraps his arms around his middle and tucks his face into Will's neck. "When I asked you to say no to me, I wasn’t asking for you to ignore me entirely.”

Will lets out a breath, gripping the sheets in his hands while Hannibal smooths his palm across his stomach. “I’m not ignoring you, Hannibal. You need your rest, and I’m giving you the space to do that.”

“Do you feel how much it hurts me that you’ve pulled away like this?” Hannibal asks him, his voice breaking. “You’ve not even kissed me since this morning. You’ve not touched me since then, either. You’ve said nothing, aside from polite conversation. I wish I’d never asked you anything at all.”

A small, pained noise escapes Will’s throat, and he claws for Hannibal’s hand, dragging his arm around him to press kisses to his knuckles. “It’s not you, Hannibal. I don’t want to cause you pain, ever again. I feel so fucking stupid for hurting you because I don’t know how to leave you alone.”

“I told you already that it wasn’t your fault. You can’t know something if I’m not telling you.”

“I should have known better,” Will says sharply. “Go to sleep, Hannibal. Rest.”

Hannibal sighs, settling himself against Will’s back, resting a warm palm over his hip. He listens to Hannibal’s breathing even out before he climbs from the bed quietly. He pulls his tee shirt and a sweater on to go back above deck. He wouldn’t be sleeping anyway, so he figures he may as well sail.

He’s slumped in the cock pit when Hannibal emerges from below deck some time after seven in the morning. His mouth is pressed into a line, while he carries a mug of coffee to Will. “Did you sleep at all?”

“No,” Will admits gruffy, taking the offered cup and sipping it gratefully.

Hannibal sighs as he settles onto the vinyl bench, glancing up at Will over his mug. Will keeps his eyes out over the horizon, sipping his coffee and ignoring the heavy gaze of the older man.

“You’re hurting me by doing this,” Hannibal says eventually. “I ache for you. I miss your touch. Is this what you want to hear?”

Will’s eyes are watery when they turn to Hannibal, and he swallows tightly to keep from crying. “It’s not a punishment, Hannibal. It’s… it’s because…” and he has no idea what he wants to say. It’s because what? He’s having a snit? He’s a moody bastard who’s at the end of his rope? He has no explanation, and when he realizes it, he sets his coffee mug down and goes to Hannibal, tipping his face up and pressing a kiss to his full lips, which is returned appreciatively. Will goes down on his knees, dragging their mouths together softly, gliding his tongue against his reverently. It’s an apology as much as it is for the sake of making up for the last day without a kiss entirely.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice breaking as he pulls away from the kiss. “I’m sorry, Hannibal.”

Hannibal shushes him with his mouth, pressing damp kisses to his lips and then his jaw, gliding softly along his neck. “Don’t do it again, please.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Will says softly. “I have no self-control with you. Your touch, your taste, I want more, always. Then you put your well-being in my hands, telling me I have to stop you from pushing yourself too far? God, Hannibal. Do you know how difficult that is? What would you have done if I’d have asked you the same thing?”

Hannibal’s eyes dart away, his tongue poking out to lick at his top lip as he considers the question. “I’d very likely do what you’ve done. I wouldn’t trust myself to stop.”

“That’s a relief to hear,” Will chuckles, pressing another kiss to the older man’s lips. “I’m still sorry.”

“Let me set some guidelines, seeing as how we do better with those, yes?” Will rolls his eyes, but nods. “You’ll kiss me and touch me. You’ll let me sleep in your arms, or you’ll sleep in mine. We won’t go further than that unless I tell you I can. I promise I won’t tell you I’m ready unless I am.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Will agrees, leaning forward to kiss him again. Hannibal chuckles, tipping his head and opening up to him, the kiss turning deep and wet in only the course of a few seconds.

Will pulls away, licking his lips as his eyebrows raise in surprise. “We’re not good at toeing the line, I don’t think.”

“I always want more, too,” Hannibal sighs.

“How about breakfast? You mind making me an omelet?”

Hannibal grins, “Tired of eating eggshells, Will?”

“Yeah, kind of.”

Will drops anchor and goes below deck, getting the pans out for Hannibal as well as the eggs and bacon. Hannibal shows off, cracking the egg by tossing it in the air, spearing it over the edge of a spatula. Will laughs as Hannibal preens, cracking the eggs in a bowl to whisk them. “You’re a braggart,” Will laughs.

“I'm not bragging,” Hannibal says, offense coloring his tone. “Merely peacocking in front of my mate, maybe.”

“Like you need to do that.”

“I did it once in front of Abigail,” Hannibal muses, his hands pausing in their task. “She loved it just like you did.”

Will is still surprised by the ache her name causes in his chest, and he’s quiet for a few minutes while Hannibal cooks. “Did you care for her?” Will asks softly.

Hannibal sets a few strips of bacon into a pan, covering them in brown sugar and course black pepper. “I cared for her immensely. I regret what I did to her, Will. I hate myself for it.”

“I’m sorry,” Will mumbles. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that I wanted to leave with you. I’m sorry I didn’t leave the night before when you asked. I think about it all the time, how different our lives could be if I wasn’t such a chicken shit.”

“We both have regrets, it seems,” Hannibal replies while turning the bacon in the pan, then flipping the omelet and spreading cheddar over it. Will watches him roll it gently, settling it onto a plate with practiced ease. “I don’t regret that our lives have brought us here, now. Our fate may have been different had we both done different things, but who could say if we would have been happy. I’m happy, Will. More than you can imagine.”

“I would have been just as happy then as I am now,” Will says softly as Hannibal presses the strips of bacon to a paper towel to drain them of excess grease. “At least I think so. I can picture the three of us learning from one another. Abigail would have been good for you. You could use a dose of teenager in your life.”

“Do you miss your little boy sometimes?” Hannibal asks suddenly, his voice lilting in curiosity. 

Will flinches at the question, and he needs a minute to respond. “Walt? He… I adored him, mostly. There was a lot of hostility from him initially, having to share his mom with someone else. Eventually I won him over, taking him fishing and teaching him about motors. He didn’t really come to me if he had problems, though. I was always his last resort. Towards the end, he shunned me. He read an article on Tattlecrime about you and I. He read that I was a killer. There was no recovering from that, and I knew it. My relationship with him was severed. He didn’t have darkness in him, not like Abigail did.”

Hannibal looks up from plating the second omelet, arching an eyebrow. “Did he visit you in the hospital?”

Will chuckles. “No, he didn’t want to see me. The news he had read about you and I made him scared of me, I think. It was for the best. I had already planned to get you out.”

Hannibal hands him a plate of perfectly cooked bacon and a beautiful omelet, and they go to the table to eat. “Will you resent me someday for preventing you from being a father? I know you wanted that, Will.”

Will drops his fork in his plate, sighing as his looks into Hannibal’s eyes. “I won’t resent you for anything. I want you. I want us. I don’t care what I’m losing to have you. Fatherhood is nothing compared to being with you.”

“I’m not asking what you’re willing to lose, beloved. I’m telling you that we could find a way. We could have a child, Will. It’s not impossible.”

“No,” Will says quickly, shaking his head.

Hannibal stills as Will eats his food, seemingly waiting for further explanation that isn’t coming. “Why not?”

“I won’t share you with anyone,” Will says softly, his dark eyes glancing up and pinning Hannibal with a stare. “I’m too selfish. You’re mine. Only mine. No one else gets to have any part of you. Not a child, not Chiyoh, no one. We’ve lost enough time together. I intend to have you to myself for the rest of my life.”

Hannibal’s eyebrows raise, his face portraying shock at Will’s possessive words. “That’s very proprietary, Will. I’m… a little shocked by that.”

“Who would babysit while we’re out killing someone?” Will asks him, his tone tipping towards annoyance. “Do you want to live our lives, the meager decades that we have together, making love in the dark, keeping quiet so we don’t wake our kid up? I want to fuck you in every room of the house. I want weeks to go by where we don’t even bother wearing clothes. I want to kill with you and see the world with you. Yeah, it’s proprietary. It’s unbelievably possessive. You don’t feel the same way?”

Hannibal licks his lips, his cheeks tinged pink as he glances up at Will. “I will very likely not live as long as you do. I don’t want you to be alone.”

It feels like iced water has been poured into Will’s veins, the reality of Hannibal’s words is so shocking. “When you go, I won’t be far behind you.”

“Will,” he begins, and Will cuts him off.

“I know you don’t like it. It’s the truth, though. You’re also assuming I won’t get myself killed somehow. In which case, it won’t matter. I might have a coronary before you with the way I worry over everything. Let’s not do this, huh?”

They eat in silence for a few minutes, and Will lets out the most satisfied little moan as he eats a slice bacon. Hannibal’s surprised laugh breaks the icy silence, and then they’re both laughing. “Yeah I fucking moaned over the bacon, whatever,” Will chuckles.

Hannibal’s laugh is brilliant as he leans over the small table to press his lips to Will’s, licking the flavor of bacon from his mouth. “I feel exactly the same as you do, Will. I want you to myself. I have no patience for the idea of sharing you with anyone. Don’t be embarrassed about your possessive nature over me because I might be worse regarding you.”

Will arches his eyebrow, leaning in to kiss him again. “I’m not surprised. You’ve spent years isolating me from everyone else. I already knew you were worse than I was.”

“You’re speaking of Margot?” Hannibal asks.

Will sighs, reaching forward to snatch a piece of bacon from Hannibal’s plate. “Not just her. Alana, Jack, basically anyone who took up an ounce more of my time than you wanted them to. I’m not upset, and I wasn’t upset by it then, either. Margot, maybe. I’m not upset over that anymore, though.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Hannibal replies softly.

“Do you feel well enough to come above deck with me? Keep me company?”

Hannibal sits back in his seat, grimacing as he does. “I’ll join you after dinner. We can watch the stars.”

Will nods, only slightly deflated. He picks up their empty plates and brings them to the sink, doing the dishes while Hannibal settles himself back into bed. “You haven’t slept, I think you should get some rest.”

“Nah,” Will replies, his hands busy in soapy water. “I had two cups of coffee, and I’m going to have another one. I’ll be fine till later.”

Will finishes cleaning up and goes to the bed to press his lips to Hannibal’s temple as he sleeps. He had hoped to get to him before he fell asleep, but he’d have to settle for this, for now. He smooths his fingers through the fine hair falling across his forehead, pressing his lips to his skin again. “Just when I think it’s impossible to love you any more than I do, you find a way to prove me wrong,” he whispers, pressing his lips to Hannibal’s cheek softly. “My beloved.”

He stands slowly, tucking the blanket up over Hannibal’s waist before pouring himself a cup of coffee and heading above deck. He doesn’t notice Hannibal’s eyes blinking open, a smile curving his lips.


	15. Chapter 15

_"After the tenderness had come more passion; we had been slower then, and lingering, a dreamy night that stretched on and on."_

_― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles_

Will sails for most of the afternoon, until he’s fighting to keep his eyes open. His shirt is off, enjoying the warm sunshine on his skin, and the heat is only making him drowsier, his eyelids sliding closed against his will. It’s almost five when he drops anchor, stretching his tired limbs as he settles the sails.

He goes below deck, bringing his empty coffee cup with him, and finds that Hannibal is in the bathroom when he comes down. He gets a pot of water boiling, and gets a pan out to cook some ground sirloin when Hannibal emerges, freshly shaved and smelling clean. “I just washed up with a facecloth,” he admits, his voice gruff with sleep. “I’ll shower tomorrow, though.”

“You need aftershave?” Will asks as he breaks up the ground sirloin in the pan, adding some Italian seasoning as he does.

“Did you bring my aftershave?” Hannibal asks, arching an eyebrow at him.

“Like I would leave that delicious shit behind,” he chuckles. He leaves the food to cook for a minute and goes to the duffel bag with all the lube and digs out Hannibal’s cologne and aftershave, handing them off. “I brought mine, too.”

“You felt this was an important thing to take with us,” Hannibal chuckles, uncapping the bottle and spreading a little in his palms, pressing them into his cheeks.

Will licks his lips as the scent permeates the small cabin, closing his eyes against the onslaught of arousal that the scent triggers in him. He knows Hannibal is aware of it, even without the older man chuckling from behind him as he settles back in front of the small stove.

Hannibal presses himself against Will’s back, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck as he watches Will cook over his shoulder. “Spaghetti?”

Will swallows, trying his best to keep a grip on himself. The heat from Hannibal’s body is sinking into his back, and the scent of him is driving him insane. “Yeah, uh… we call it chop suey, but it’s just pasta and ground beef. Marinara sauce, you know.”

“Are you distracted by something?” Hannibal asks, his accent lilting his words innocently, even though they were anything but. He was being a fucking tease, and he knew it. 

“No,” Will says indignantly, and Hannibal presses him further by sliding his fingers under Will’s tee shirt, pressing them into the skin of his abdomen and tracing his scar there. “Hannibal, please.”

“Forgive me,” Hannibal breathes into his ear, pressing a kiss just under it.

He steps away, and Will thinks he looks reluctant to do so. “Are you feeling any better?” Will asks him. 

Hannibal lifts his tee shirt, showing Will his side. The bruising has faded a bit to a mottled blue-green, and it does look much better. He imagines it doesn’t feel better, though. “It doesn’t hurt very much. My shoulder bothers me more, but it’s healing well, too. I think tonight I’m going to try Motrin, only. See if I can manage the pain without opioids.”

“Is that a good idea?” Will asks as he adds pasta to the boiling water, stirring it gently.

“The pain medicine helps me to rest, which promotes healing. It’s also terribly addictive, and I’m already worried that there will be some withdrawal symptoms. It’ll be alright, Will. I’ll manage.”

Will sighs, scratching at his scruff that he needs to shave. “If you think it’s a good idea, then yeah, swap to Motrin.”

Hannibal takes his pills, sans pain killers, and comes to the table to get the bottle of Motrin. “I’m tempted to ask you to throw the opioids overboard.”

“Let’s wait and see how your pain is before we do something we can’t undo.”

Hannibal nods, settling himself at the kitchenette and stretching his shoulder. “Would you like help with anything?”

Will glances around as he dumps the sauce into the cooked meat, stirring it until it bubbles. “No, it’s almost done. I feel like this is so insulting to feed you.”

“In a few weeks when we’re eating cans of tuna on defrosted bread, we’ll lament not having a hot meal. It’s not insulting to make-do.”

“It’s also awesome because we’ll have leftovers. I won’t have to cook tomorrow.” Hannibal’s face pinches with something, and Will laughs. “Not one for reheated food, I guess.”

Will drains the pasta, adding it to the finished sauce and tossing it to coat it all. He plates some, grating fresh parmesan on top, wrinkling his nose at the scent of the strong cheese.

He brings their plates to the table, and Hannibal twirls his fork in it elegantly, earning a chuckle from Will who slurps it, pulling a noodle into his mouth. Hannibal chuckles while watching him, leaning forward to swipe at some sauce at the corner of his mouth with his thumb. 

The innocent gesture shoots a flare of arousal straight to Will’s cock, and he shifts in his seat as he watches Hannibal tuck his thumb into his own mouth, cleaning it. Will pointedly avoids eye contact after that, merely eating and shifting uncomfortably in his seat. 

“Is everything I do so stimulating? I’m terribly flattered.”

“Not everything,” Will lies. “I’m sure there are some things you do that would put me off.”

“Name one,” Hannibal says with a smirk, twirling his pasta and taking a delicate bite. 

“Your egotism is off-putting,” Will sasses back.

Hannibal chuckles, glancing up at Will from his plate. “I don’t believe you think that.”

Will wants desperately to think of a single thing that Hannibal does that he thinks is a turn-off, and he really can’t think of one. He chews his lip as he struggles, and Hannibal grins. “That’s what I thought.”

Will takes another bite of pasta, slurping another noodle into his mouth. “What about me,” he asks. "What do I do that you don’t like?”

"Oh, let’s not do that,” Hannibal says with a laugh.

Will’s eyebrows pinch along with his mouth. “What’s that mean? I want to hear it.”

Hannibal sighs, deliberating for a moment before speaking. “Your table manners are horrible. You swear like a sailor,”

“Well, I am a sailor,” Will interrupts him, and Hannibal chuckles.

“You interrupt me when I’m speaking,”

“You’re always speaking,” Will interjects again with an arch of his eyebrow.

“You’re argumentative,”

“Having an opinion on something that’s different than yours isn’t argumentative,” Will says indignantly.

“You can be terribly rude,” Hannibal says with an arched eyebrow.

“You’re God damned rude,” Will replies, his tone acidic.

“Oh, Will. I love you so dearly.”

The tension breaks, and Will laughs, leaning across the table to press his mouth fully to Hannibal’s own. Hannibal snatches his face between his palms, pressing his tongue into his mouth demandingly, and Will moans at the possessive grip the older man has on his face. Will pulls away eventually, settling back into his seat with a lop-sided grin. “Why the hell did you fall in love with me?” 

“I don’t know,” Hannibal admits honestly. “The moment I saw you in Jack’s office, your rumpled clothes and riot of curls. Your rude, hostile, personality. I was utterly besotted by you.”

“You fed me a human being the next day,” Will recalls, his cheeks heating. “I was in my underwear when you got to the motel room.”

“I was delighted to find you in such a sweaty, naked, state. You didn’t dissuade me from my fascination of you. Just when I think it’s impossible to love you anymore than I already do, you find a way to prove me wrong, beloved.”

Will’s eyes snap up to his, his blush heading straight to his hairline. “You were awake.”

“I was,” Hannibal admits softly. “For every minuscule fault you have, you have a thousand qualities that I love about you. Even your imperfections are endearing to me. Never doubt it.”

“Maybe that’s why I can’t think of anything for you,” Will concedes softly, twirling more pasta on his fork and attempting to do it as gracefully as Hannibal does. “I don’t see your imperfections because they belong to you.”

“A very romantic thing to say,” Hannibal teases kindly. “Perhaps you’d like to confess that to me when you think I’m asleep.”

“Shut up,” Will laughs, reaching his fingers out to entangle them with Hannibal’s on the table.

They finish eating, and Hannibal helps him dry dishes and put them away. Will gets the leftovers into separate containers, and Hannibal washes the pan while Will makes room in the fridge for the containers. 

Will sighs when he finishes, leaning heavily against the counter. “I am exhausted.”

“You haven’t slept, so I imagine that’s true.”

Will comes up behind him as he’s drying the pan, wrapping his arms around Hannibal’s waist, and pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades. “You want go to bed with me and make-out?”

Hannibal laughs, turning to Will with a disbelieving look on his face. “No one has ever, in my entire life, asked me if I want to make-out.”

“You can’t say that anymore,” Will chuckles, sliding his hands over Hannibal’s stomach.

“Go brush your teeth, I don’t want to lick pasta from your mouth while kissing you,” Hannibal teases with a grin.

Will laughs, heading into the bathroom to use the toilet and brush his teeth thoroughly, using a tiny bottle of mouthwash, too. He emerges and settles into his side of the bed, setting an alarm for one am for Hannibal’s next dose. 

Hannibal uses the bathroom and Will can hear him brushing his teeth, too. Hannibal joins him in the bed, making the smallest noise of discomfort in the back of his throat as he settles into the sheets. Will wastes no time, leaning over him to touch the soft skin of his cheekbones, gliding his fingers along the sharp edge of them reverently before pressing a soft kiss to Hannibal’s mouth. Hannibal turns towards him, wrapping his arms around Will’s body, tucking him close as their mouths slant, the kiss deepening to something warm and soft. 

All Will can taste is the mint of their toothpaste, and all he can smell is Hannibal’s skin and his delicious aftershave. Will pulls away from Hannibal’s mouth, nipping softly at his plush upper lip, before trailing his lips down towards the pale column of his throat, inhaling greedily as he nips at the soft skin.

Hannibal sighs, tipping his head back and lacing his fingers through Will’s curls, twisting them in his fingers and smoothing them, as though he’s memorizing their texture, maybe adoring the way the curls return to their shape after they’ve been straightened. Will’s hands aren’t idle, they’re mapping the hard planes of Hannibal’s chest, gripping his hips, and gliding along the hard muscle of Hannibal’s biceps. Hannibal tips his jaw up, bringing their mouths back together softly, and Will moans into his mouth, sweeping his tongue against his teeth, tracing their sharper edges, and delving deeper to taste him.

It’s hands-down, the best make-out session Will has ever had. Not that he really has anything to compare it to. He didn’t exactly make-out with anyone in high school, or in college. As an adult, there was perfunctory kissing before it evolved into something more. This, what he was doing now, was decidedly different. The languid exploration, the worshipful intimacy of it… it was wonderful.

Hannibal’s hand that isn’t causing a mess in his hair travels low over Will’s hip, reaching behind him to cup his ass and squeeze gently, his thumb smoothing across the soft fabric of his pajama shorts while his palm and fingers grip him. 

Hannibal pulls away from his mouth, trailing wet kisses down to his jaw and nipping the skin there, before tucking his face against the long column of Will’s throat, suckling the skin until it bruises. Their breathing is harsh, and the atmosphere is changing from languid exploration to something more purposeful, and Will pulls away gently, pressing softer, gentler, kisses to Hannibal’s wandering mouth. 

Hannibal feels the change in pace, sighing as he sips softly at Will’s mouth before they settle into each other’s arms and allow the intensity to dissipate. “How was your first make-out session, Doctor Lecter?” Will asks with a breathless laugh.

Hannibal grins against his temple, his fingers still causing a riot in Will’s hair. “Very pleasant. Everything with you is… more than I imagined.”

Will hums against him while his hands trace lazy patterns against his spine. “I know what you mean.”

They’re silent for a few minutes, and Will tucks his head under Hannibal’s chin, pressing his ear against his shoulder. “I’d like to ask you something,” Hannibal says eventually. 

“Anything,” Will replies softly.

“You said to me that you’d have done anything for me before I tampered with your mind. Did you… would you have wanted me like this, even then?”

Will sighs. “I don’t know. I think so? I was still pretty firmly rooted in the idea that I was straight, even though I would sniff your office like a bloodhound and stare at you even though I hated eye contact.”

“The night you stormed into my house because you kissed Alana, I was so, terribly, jealous. The thought that she’d had her lips against yours while you looked the way you did. I wanted to kill her. I wanted to kill you, for being such a tease.”

“While I looked the way I did?” Will laughs, hugging him tighter to himself. “I somehow doubt I was wearing a button down or anything like that.”

“You were wearing a gray-blue flannel, the top three buttons undone, allowing me a view of your enticing throat. You had a black vest over it, unbuttoned.”

Will huffs in disbelief, pulling away from him so he could look at Hannibal’s face. “You really were love-sick.”

“You’ve no idea,” Hannibal replies with a chuckle, pressing a kiss to the side of Will’s temple. “I’m still very love-sick.”

“Good,” Will sighs, tucking himself back into Hannibal’s neck. 

“Did you really never talk about me with Molly?” Hannibal asks, and his tone is genuinely curious.

Will hesitates, considering his words. “She asked about you a lot. There was a lot of information about us on the internet, and she’s read all of it. She asked me why I went to Europe to find you, and I told her that I wanted to catch you. I tried to explain to her that you and I were friends, once. The things you did wouldn’t change the fact that you were my friend. She always assumed that made me soft; my inability to hate you. I couldn’t talk about you, Hannibal. I was a mess.”

“I’m not angry, Will,” Hannibal assures him. “My relationship with Alana stemmed from a desperate need to fill the hole you left in my life. I don’t imagine your relationship with Molly was anything different.”

“You believe me now when I tell you I love you just as you love me?” Will asks softly.

Hannibal presses another kiss to his hair, continuing his assault on Will’s curls. “How could I doubt you? After everything. I do have a request, however. If you have something entirely romantic to say to me, please do it while I’m awake. It pains me to think of all the sweet words I’ve never heard uttered from your lips because I was snoring.”

“You don’t snore,” Will laughs. “I wish you did, so I could give you shit about it, but you don’t. And I’ve never said anything like that to you while you were sleeping. Maybe while you were unconscious, but I don’t remember what I was saying to you, then. You just… looked so beautifully soft while you were sleeping, your hair swooped across your forehead. I wanted to wake you up, but I couldn’t do it.”

Hannibal adjusts them in the bed, settling them out against the pillows. “You called me beloved, and I thought I was going to crush you in my arms. You don’t often use any terms of endearment with me, and if you do, it’s usually ‘darling’ in a charming southern drawl. I don’t know which one I like more.”

Will chuckles, gripping his back gently in his hand. “Have I called you darlin’?”

“Yes, a few times, now.”

“Jesus, I didn’t even realize it. Louisiana pops out sometimes.” He intentionally pronounces it ‘lose-ee-ana’, in perfect southern drawl. “I like ‘beloved’ for you, more. I feel like that describes who you are to me perfectly. Would you like me to try out a few different ones? See which one you like more?”

Hannibal groans, “I feel like you’re teasing me, somehow.”

“Not teasing you, sugar. Just trying a few different nicknames to see what my honeybunch likes.”

“Will,” Hannibal warns with a chuckle.

“Baby,” Will sighs. “babe?”

“I hate all of them, for the record.” Hannibal replies sleepily. 

Will struggles to think of some more. “Cupcake? Muffin?” Hannibal laughs, pinching Will’s side gently and Will yelps through a belly laugh of his own.

“Goodnight, Will,” Hannibal says softly, pressing another kiss to his temple.

“Goodnight, darlin’.” The soft press of Hannibal’s fingers against his scalp let him know that he doesn’t object to that one.

The blare of Will’s alarm goes off at one am, and it startles Will enough that he shoots up off the bed, reaching for his phone to shut it off. Hannibal is sitting at the side of the bed, resting his face in his palms. His back is damp with sweat, and Will scrubs a hand over his face to wake himself up. “What’s wrong, Hannibal? Have you slept?”

Hannibal nods, tugging his fingers through his hair. “I did, for a bit. I woke up feeling a little under the weather.”

“What is it? Is it a fever?” Will asks, panic making him get up from the bed to come around the other side and see Hannibal’s face. 

“No,” Hannibal sighs, reaching out to take his antibiotics and some Motrin. “It’s a bit of withdrawal, I think.”

“Maybe you should take one? Or a half of one? Your body doesn’t need to go through something else, right now.”

“What my body needs is to get over its damned opioid addiction,” he snaps, and immediately sighs. “I’m sorry, Will. I’m… tense.”

“What will happen, Hannibal? How bad will it get?”

“Not much worse than this,” Hannibal assures him. “I didn’t abuse them, and I didn’t take more than I needed. They’re very dangerous for a reason. A day or so with cold sweats and nausea, and it’ll pass.”

Will crouches in front of him, lacing his fingers through Hannibal’s. “I’m sorry that everything that could possibly go bad for you has.”

“You apologize to me, saying something like that, while I’m in your presence. Everything else is just background noise compared to being with you, Will. I might be irritable with you for the next few days. Please remember that I love you more than anything in this world.”

“I’ll remember it,” Will promises him. He goes to the fridge and gets a cold bottled water, bringing it to Hannibal. “Drink this, please. Try to drink all of it. You’re sweating quite a bit.”

Hannibal nods and chugs down most of it, sipping the rest gently as he presses the cool bottle to his forehead. Will goes into the bathroom and dampens a facecloth, returning to Hannibal’s side. “Take off your shirt and lay down for me.”

Hannibal strips his soggy shirt, laying flat on the bed as he tremors through a shiver. Will presses the cool cloth to his forehead, mopping up some sweat and cleansing his skin. He rotates the cloth, pressing a cool side to his neck, and then his chest, and Hannibal shivers against it, his eyes watching Will heavily. “Did you do this for me while I was fevered?”

“Yes,” Wil replies easily. “Quite often, in fact.”

“I wish I could remember even a moment of it,” Hannibal sighs, his body shivering a bit as the damp cloth leaves his skin. 

“And I wish I could forget it,” Will admits quietly. “I was memorizing you in case you left me. I traced every part of you, hoping it wouldn’t be the last time I’d touch you while you were breathing.”

“Will,” Hannibal whispers lowly. “I won’t die from this, I promise you. I will be horribly unpleasant, but I won’t die.”

“People can die from alcohol withdrawal,” Will reminds him, and he’s upset when his voice breaks.

“Yes, but not from opioid use. Only sometimes, if the body is severely damaged, and the opioid in question is heroin or something similar, would it cause a cardiac event. I was taking vicodin, and a low dose. This is only because of the amount of time I was taking it. Come back to bed, please. You need your rest.”

Will sighs, throwing the facecloth to the end table, and climbs back into bed. He gives Hannibal some space, as he’s sweating and uncomfortable, but he keeps his eyes on him as he lays on his side of the bed. “Wake me if you need me. Or even if you don’t.”

“Sleep, Will. I’m going to try for a few hours of sleep, too.”

Will drifts off when Hannibal tangles their fingers together.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! We are nearing the end, almost. I've got probably four or five chapters left in this story that i'd like to tell, as well as a one-shot that won't quite fit in the story, but I'd like told. Your comments and kudos have fueled this, so thank you so much for all your kind words!
> 
> More to come. <3

Will wakes up early the next morning, and he’s worried because Hannibal isn’t in bed, and the bathroom door is open, signaling that he isn’t in there, either.

Will goes above deck to find Hannibal resting on the vinyl bench, his body shiny with sweat. He looks up at Will as he emerges, and his eyes are exhausted. “I didn’t want to wake you, and the air out here feels good.”

“You haven’t slept at all?” Will asks.

“No,” he admits softly. “I’m having some anxiety. I feel like my skin is covered in ants.”

“I think I’ll toss those pills overboard today,” Will sighs.

“I’d like if you did.”

“How about I make you some toast? You think you could hold that down?”

“The thought alone is repulsive, but yes. Dry, please. Don’t butter it.”

“How about coffee? Or would you rather just have water?” The look on Hannibal’s face implies that Will is being annoying, but he asks anyway.

“Water,” he replies curtly.

Will hesitates for a moment, then goes below deck. He makes Hannibal’s toast, and brings it above deck with a bottled water, and then goes back for his own buttered toast with strawberry jam, and a strong coffee. He sets his breakfast down, fluffing out the sails and pulling anchor, noting the direction of the wind as he adjusts the sails. He picks up his mug and his plate, settling into the cockpit as he sets sail, sipping his coffee and eating his toast. 

“When we get to France, our home has a shed in the back. You could convert it into a space to work on your boat motors, if it would please you,” Hannibal offers, his fingers absently holding a dry piece of toast.

“I would love that, Hannibal,” Will says softly, setting his empty plate aside and sipping his coffee. “I could make fishing lures out there, too. You said it’s by a stream?”

“It is,” Hannibal assures him. “There are three bedrooms, I was thinking one of them could be a space for your fishing gear and lures. That way you could be comfortable even in the winter.”

“Do you have an office there? Or a library?”

Hannibal moans in disgust, unable to eat anymore. He drops the dry toast in the plate and turns to Will. "There is a study, yes. Not as grandiose as my office, or the library in our study in Cuba, but it’s beautiful. I look forward to sketching again. It feels like it’s been ages since I’ve sketched anything.”

“I wish I would have remembered to get your pencils and sketchbooks,” Will sighs. “I forgot to go into the study for anything.”

“My hands are shaking too much to sketch, right now,” Hannibal replies miserably, holding his hands out as they tremor. 

“Only a few days, Hannibal. Then the worst will be over.”

“Easy for you to say, when it isn’t you going through it,” Hannibal says reproachfully.

Will bites his tongue at the response he wants to spit out, as this isn’t Hannibal he’s dealing with right now. He would have liked to ask how the fuck Hannibal could say he isn’t going through all of this with him, but he doesn’t. He sips his coffee instead, staring out over the horizon as the sun rises in brilliant shades of red and orange.

“I’m going to try and rest, because not only am I detoxing, I’m also in a great deal of pain. What a delight this has been for me.”

Will sighs, glancing over to the older man as he tremors, and his heart breaks just looking at him. “I am sorry, Hannibal.”

“What a lovely consolation your pity is, Will.”

Hannibal slams the door as he goes below deck, and Will closes his eyes as he sips his coffee. It was clearly going to be a long few days.

He sails until just after nine, and he’s debating whether he should go downstairs to wake Hannibal for his pills. He knows that he should, but he’s not particularly in the mood to get his head torn off, either. He sighs as he goes below deck.

Hannibal is sprawled across the mattress, sweating. Will walks over to him, touching his shoulder gently. “Hannibal, it’s nine.”

Hannibal’s eyes blink open, and he moans as he shifts against the bed. “I was finally asleep,” he sighs miserably.

“I’m sorry, but you need your antibiotics.”

He gets no response, and he can feel his hackles rising as he gets the pills for Hannibal, along with a new bottled water. He taps Hannibal’s shoulder again, and the older man turns to him with a feral expression on his face. “I heard you the first time.”

Will sets the pills on his chest, dropping the bottled water on the bed, and goes back above deck.

Will sails for the better part of the late morning, but he’s hungry. He goes below deck as quietly as he can manage, pulling a container of leftover pasta from the fridge and popping it in the small microwave. Hannibal groans from the bed, pulling a pillow over his face. “Must you reheat that swill? I feel like the smell is going to make me retch.”

Will sighs, opening a few windows and takes his leftovers above deck to eat.

Will wishes he could have waited to detox in France. At least there they’d have some space to be away from one another. Hannibal could take a spare bedroom and come out when he wanted for food or water. Will doubts he’s going to bother to drink or eat anything, and he already knows he’s going to have to force the issue shortly, and it’s not going to go over well.

He’s… weighed down by this, already. He can’t wait for Hannibal to just… be better. He wants to live his life with him. He wants to wake in his arms and pounce on him if he wants to. He looks forward to swimming in their pool and going for long walks along the stream with him. The entirety of their life so far, from the hospital until this moment, feels like it’s been three years instead of almost three weeks. He’s tired of it, and the thought makes him feel guilty and selfish, but it doesn’t change that he is.

Hannibal has started to feel two dimensional to Will, and the thought hurts him as he thinks it. He misses the richness of Hannibal’s soul. The confidence that was just emerging before Alana made everything collapse into chaos. He wonders if he’ll ever feel comfortable with being… rough with Hannibal. If he’s ever going to be able to just be with him without worrying that he’s hurting him. 

He’s viewed Hannibal as fragile and breakable for the better part of a month, and he worries that the repetition of doing so has become a habit. Realistically, he knows he’s feeling this way because Hannibal isn’t himself right now. He knows once they can lay in bed and snuggle and banter and poke fun at one another, that this mood of his will pass.

He also knows that his empathy picks up everything, even when he’s not actively aware of it, and some of what he’s feeling, if not all of it, is very likely from the frustrated, beautiful, man below deck.

The realization of that sobers him, and he goes downstairs to see if his beloved wants to eat something.

Hannibal is still in bed, sweating against the sheets. Will grimaces at that, as there isn’t a second set, and they won’t be able to change the bedsheets any time soon. Will goes over to him, settling to the side of his hip, and touching his sweaty forearm. “Hannibal, you should try to drink some water, or eat something, yeah?”

Tired eyes turn to him, and Will feels like such a shit for being above deck, feeling sick of this. Hannibal is clearly exhausted, his face gaunt with lack of sleep and pain. The dark circles under his eyes look like bruises, and Will reaches out to smooth his knuckles against his cheek, biting his lip as he hopes he’s not pushing Hannibal too far.

“Will,” he sighs. “Forgive me for how I’ve been speaking to you, please.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, darlin’,” he drawls, allowing a small smile to grace his lips. “I’ve been picking up on your emotions. I think I’m too tired to tune them out. I wish I could take this pain from you. I wish I could carry it for you so you wouldn’t have to feel it. I can’t, though.”

“An offer to be the Samwise to my Frodo? I never took you for a Tolkien fan,” Hannibal smiles softly.

“A story about warring good and evil?” Will asks with a quirk of his eyebrow. “I loved it. It felt deeply personal, to me. So yeah, I’ll be your Samwise. I’ll do anything for you.”

“You’ve done enough for me,” Hannibal says softly. “You’ve done more than you should.”

“We haven’t even scratched the surface of what I would do for you, Hannibal,” Will promises him, lacing their fingers together over Hannibal’s stomach. “This is nothing compared to the wars I would wage for you.”

Hannibal’s eyes glisten as he considers Will’s words, and he sighs. “I can’t eat, Will. I’m struggling not to dry heave as we speak.”

“You need to drink something, then. Water or orange juice. Maybe a little glass of orange juice and then some water. That would make me beyond happy.”

Hannibal nods, sitting up in the bed slowly and shivering. “Orange juice and water. I can do that.”

Will pours him a glass of orange juice and hands it to him, and Hannibal sips it gently, groaning as he does. “This tastes good, right now.”

“I bet it does. You haven’t eaten anything in a day, and you’ve sweat more than you’ve drank. A little bit of sugar, vitamins, and minerals will do you some good, I think.”

Hannibal finishes the glass, and Will takes it from his hand, “More?”

“Yes, please,” Hannibal says softly.

Will pours him another glass and hands it to him. He goes into the bathroom to fill a basin with cool water and takes a facecloth out with him. Hannibal watches him carefully as he settles out beside him again, wringing the cloth in the basin and pressing it to his forehead, mopping up stale sweat as he smooths it across his skin. Hannibal allows it, watching Will’s hand as it presses to his cheeks, then his jaw. He wrings it out again, and trails it across his neck, then down to his shoulders and his chest. He takes his time working the cool cloth over every exposed part of Hannibal’s body, earning himself a chuckle from the older man as he’s forced to switch hands with his glass of juice so Will can press the cloth against his arms and his hands.

Will untapes the soggy gauze from Hannibal’s shoulder, taking a second to look at the wound. It was healing well, he thought. It was just stitches, now. The redness around them had dissipated, and the wound was almost closed, at least on the outside. He knew a wound like this would take much longer to heal from the inside.

“I’ve got to go above deck and keep sailing,” he says eventually. 

Hannibal nods, closing his eyes briefly. “I’m feeling much better at the moment. I might even be able to sleep.”

“Good,” Will says with a quirk of his lips. “If you need me, you know where to find me.”

Will stands from the bed, and Hannibal catches his wrist before he can go. “Come here, please,” he whispers.

Will leans over him, a gentle smile tugging the corners of his mouth, and Hannibal cups the side of his face, dragging him down for a soft kiss. Will pulls away enough to press another kiss to his temple before standing again. “I’ll come down at five for your meds, okay?”

Hannibal nods again, his breathing evening out as he drifts off. 

Will goes above deck to sail for a bit, but it’s drizzling and miserable, so he only stays out for a few hours before retreating below deck. By the time he comes down, his clothes are soaked through, and he’s shivering as he strips down to change into dry clothes.

“You’ll catch a terrible cold, staying above deck in the rainy chill,” Hannibal chastises him. “Isn’t one useless person on the boat enough?”

Will turns a glaring eye at him as he pulls on dry pajama pants. “You’re not useless, stop saying shit like that.”

“Come here,” Hannibal pleads, holding his arms out for Will to settle into them.

Will does so eagerly, pressing his frozen fingers to over-heated skin, and Hannibal hisses as Will settles his equally chilled body against him. “Oh, God, you feel warm and so good.”

“You feel on the verge of hypothermia,” Hannibal sighs, rubbing him briskly with warm hands. “I take it the weather is turning as we head to France?”

“Yeah,” Will shivers. “It’s not tropical anymore, unfortunately.”

“How long will it take, do you think? I haven’t thought to ask.”

“Two more weeks, give or take. That’s based on five nautical miles per hour, but I’ve gotten almost nine while sailing. I stop for rest, though, so it’ll likely be more like two to two and a half weeks.”

Hannibal sighs. “I think I’ll be quite stir-crazy by then.”

“Yeah,” Will agrees softly, his limbs going pins and needles as they warm up. “It’s why I said we need to conserve water. My boat holds about a week’s worth if you and I shower every day. We’ve done good so far, though. I’m not worried.”

“How long have I been taking my antibiotics, now? I honestly don’t know.”

Will thinks a minute, “Uh, tomorrow will be seven days. Well, one am will be seven days.”

“I can finish taking them tomorrow, then. Seven days is far more than I need.”

Will sits up to look at him, his smile stretching his face. “Really? That’s such good news,” he laughs, squeezing Hannibal around his waist gently.

“I feel so irritable,” Hannibal admits softly. “Itchy and irritable. I feel like something will happen to me and I’ll end up back in a rut. I’m so tired of being tired, Will.”

“Give it two days or so,” Will tells him gently. “I feel like you’ll be doing better once the pain meds let you go, and you can roam around the boat more freely. Hannibal, you’re okay. You’re with me, and you’re alive, and you’re two doses away from not taking medications anymore. I am thrilled,” he chuckles.

“I wish I could share even a modicum of your enthusiasm,” he chuckles.

“I’m about to bring you down even more. How does leftovers sound?”

Hannibal laughs, squeezing Will’s shoulder. “It sounds wonderful, Will.”

Will presses a kiss over his heart, running gentle fingers through his chest hair. “Good. It’s time for your meds, too.”

Hannibal takes his pills while Will reheats two containers of pasta, setting out forks and napkins on the kitchenette. He puts a can of cola down for himself, as well as a bottled water for Hannibal.

Hannibal settles into the chair, his shoulders slumped, and his posture some-what defeated. Hannibal eats most of the pasta, although he takes significantly longer than Will does, who tucks into his food like he hasn’t eaten in months.

Hannibal isn’t talkative, but Will doesn’t mind his silence as much as he minds his barbed words. He’ll take a quiet Hannibal over a cruel one, any day.

Will washes the few dishes, turning to Hannibal to ask if he wants to play cards, when he notices the older man has already settled himself back into the sheets. He sighs, looking at the lines of defeat in Hannibal’s body, and he doesn’t know what to do to help him through this. 

He finishes cleaning up, heading over to the bed and settling against Hannibal’s hip. He’s not sleeping. His eyes are open, but… despondent. “It hurts me to see you like this,” he says softly, smoothing a lock of hair from his forehead with gentle fingers. “What can I do, Hannibal? Tell me.”

“There’s nothing you can do,” Hannibal says miserably. “I think… I think this is depression? I’ve never dealt with this before.”

“Alright, Doctor Lecter. What would you tell a patient that was going through this? What would your advice be?”

Hannibal arches an eyebrow at him, considering his question. “I would suggest doing mild exercises, as well as I could tolerate. A sleep schedule would be beneficial so as to avoid sleeping the day away…”

“All things you aren’t doing,” Will teases mildly. “What else?”

“Stay connected with loved ones,” Hannibal says with a grimace, realizing he’s not doing that, either. “Find a routine during recovery. Wake up, get dressed, be active as much as possible, something like that.”

“So you’re a therapist who doesn’t heed his own advice. Do as I say, not as I do, right?”

“Tomorrow morning, I will wake up with you, and exercise a bit. I’ll try to stay awake until a reasonable hour.”

“I’ll keep you busy,” Will chuckles. “You can make us breakfast and dinner if you’re up to it. I know you love cooking. I’ve been feeding you some sad shit, I know.”

“No, Will,” Hannibal chuckles. “You’ve been wonderful. I’m more grateful for you than you could even imagine.”

“I love you, just so you know.”

Hannibal smiles, and for the first time in days it reaches his eyes. “As I love you,” he says softly.

“It’s still early,” Will notices, glancing at the clock. “Play cards with me. Do you know how to play Rummy?”

Hannibal rolls his eyes. “I don’t live in a vacuum, Will. Yes.”

Hannibal joins him at the table, and Will deals their cards. They go a few hands, Hannibal grinning from ear to ear as Will’s points are in the negative while the cheating man has almost at two hundred points.

“You know this isn’t Gin Rummy, right?” Will asks him with an arch expression.

“Does it matter?” Hannibal asks, picking up a card and discarding another.

“Yeah, it matters. I don’t know you’re about to go out because you make runs in your hands and put them all down at the same time. It’s… it’s cheating!”

“Cheating,” Hannibal scoffs. “It’s not my fault you hold onto wild cards. They’re fifty points in your hand, Will. You should have made a run.”

“I didn’t know I had to, because you still had seven cards in your hand,” he argues.

“Oh dear,” Hannibal tisks. “I’m in love with a sore loser.”

Will huffs indignantly, his face heating. “I’m not a sore loser. You’re a… a sore cheater.”

“There is no rule that says I must put down a run or three of a kind when I have it,” he defends haughtily.

“It’s common curtesy, Hannibal.”

“It’s your turn,” he reminds Will.

Will picks up a card, setting down three of a kind. “See? I’m showing you that I have four cards left after I discard. It’s rude not to do it.”

Hannibal chuckles, picking up another card. “Is it rude? Or is it cheating? There’s a distinct difference.”

“It’s both. Both in equal, infuriating, measure.”

“I’m so pleased you asked me to do this. What a nice time we’re having,” Hannibal says in an overly saccharine tone as he discards.

“Do you have a run in your hand right now? Three of a kind?”

Hannibal’s mouth purses, “No.”

“Let me see, then,” Will demands, waving his hand at him in a ‘come hither’ gesture.

“What? No. Now that is rude. And I’m certain it’s cheating, besides,” Hannibal says crossly.

“If you put all seven cards down at a time again, I will strangle you. I’m not kidding.”

Will picks up another card, placing it down to make four of a kind on his run, and discards another card.

Hannibal picks up a card, his face bright with joy as he puts six cards down, a run and three of a kind, discarding his last card.

Will glares at him while Hannibal’s face splits with the widest smile, his eyebrow arching playfully. “How many points are you in the hole?”

Will loses the game miserably, but it’s worth the delight he sees on Hannibal’s face. Will’s already decided they’d play something else, next time. Something Hannibal can’t be a cheating, cheater while playing.

They settle into the sheets, and Hannibal is still smiling as he wraps his arms around Will’s body, tugging his surly shoulders against himself. “I still want to strangle you,” Will says with a laugh.

“Such a sore loser,” Hannibal chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.

Will reaches to turn out the lamp, settling the cabin in darkness. They can hear the rain pattering against the deck above them, and the sound is beyond soothing. Hannibal’s mouth finds him in the dark, pressing hotly with lips and tongue into his mouth. Will moans and tips his face up to angle the kiss better, their tongues gliding softly while their hands roamed each other’s bare chests eagerly. 

They kiss in the dark for a while, the sounds of rain and their heavy breathing filling the cabin. Will wants him. He was absolutely aching for him, but he forces their pace to a crawl, eventually pulling away to settle himself against his chest.

Will reaches to the end table, setting an alarm for the final dose of Hannibal’s meds at one am, showing it to Hannibal with a smile on his face. “Last one, darlin’.” 

Hannibal chuckles, pressing a kiss to his temple, and they drift off to sleep. The alarm blares at them four hours later, but it barely bothers them. Hannibal takes his pills, tossing the bottle to the duffel bag once he’s finished. They wouldn’t need to wake up in the middle of the night again.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had twenty five thousand words written for this story that hadn't been posted, and my computer restarted while i was in the middle of it. GONE.
> 
> This chapter is a rewrite, and i feel like it lost something because of it. I'm sorry =\

Will wakes up before Hannibal the next morning, and the sight of him, sleepy and soft in the bed next to him motivates him. He leans over him carefully, pressing his lips softly against the older man’s, allowing the faintest touch of his tongue to trace their shape. Hannibal smiles softly, stirring awake with Will’s attentions, and he presses his mouth more fully against Will’s own. 

Will pulls away, trailing kisses down the side of his jaw and throat, and Hannibal chuckles while stretching tiredly. “I could wake everyday to that lovely mouth of yours,” he says, his voice gravelly and deep from sleep.

“Well, that’s good to hear,” Will chuckles, flicking his tongue out against his collarbone. “I have every intention of waking you up like this for the rest of your life.”

Hannibal grins, turning his face into Will’s curls. “I think I’ll have to shower, today. I feel absolutely wretched.”

Will reluctantly climbs from the bed, heading to the bathroom to relieve himself and brush his teeth. When he emerges, Hannibal is dressed warmly in a soft gray sweater and black pajama pants, brewing a pot of coffee. “If you’d like, you can take a cup of coffee with you above deck. I’ll make us something simple for breakfast and join you in a few minutes.”

Will comes around the counter to press his face against Hannibal’s soft sweater, right between his shoulder blades. “Didn’t you want to learn to sail? I can wait for you.”

“It’s no problem, Will. We have time. After that, I’ll do some light exercises on deck. Try to stretch these tired muscles back into some semblance of shape.”

Will’s mouth goes dry as he pulls away to take the offered cup of coffee from Hannibal’s hand. He’s picturing Hannibal, shirtless and sweaty, doing sit-ups in the sun while his skin glistens. It’s not a realistic fantasy, but it didn’t have to be.

“What on earth did I say that’s gotten you so worked up?” Hannibal asks with an amused grin.

“Just picturing you working out. All sweaty. It’s… distracting.”

Hannibal rolls his eyes, but there’s a flush on his cheeks. “I’m a long way from that, yet. Go. Go above deck and let me make breakfast. I have to figure out what to do with all this fruit that’s going sour.”

Will nods absently, heading above deck after pressing an absent kiss against Hannibal’s cheekbone. He misses the gentle curve of Hannibal’s mouth that the mindless gesture provokes.

Will fluffs out the damp sails, shivering a bit at the icy chill in the air. It’s still mostly cloudy but it’s thankfully stopped raining, so Will counts his blessings with that, at least. He pulls anchor and settles into the cockpit just as Hannibal emerges, a large plate of cut of fruit piled high on it.

The single plate makes Will frown, and he looks up at Hannibal curiously. “Did you eat without me?”

“No,” Hannibal chuckles. “Do you think I’d imagine you’d eat all this fruit yourself?”

“Maybe you’re trying to fatten me up for something,” Will teases him as Hannibal comes to settle against his side, dropping the plate to the cockpit counter. 

“As intriguing as that thought is, no. I had something else in mind,” he says quietly while lifting a small cube of honeydew melon in his fingertips, bringing it to Will’s mouth. 

Oh. 

Hannibal intends to feed him. With his long, lovely, fingers. Will’s brain just about short-circuits at the very thought. He leans forward with a flush on his cheeks, suckling the small cube of fruit from Hannibal’s fingers. He makes sure to take his fingertips into his mouth, flicking his tongue out against the pads deliberately as he pulls away. 

Hannibal’s own face is flushed as Will picks up a slice of strawberry, bringing it to Hannibal’s mouth. Hannibal leans forward to take it, and Will pulls it away teasingly, earning a grin from the older man as he wraps his fingers around Will’s wrist to bring his hand to his mouth. He takes the offering without so much as a brush of his lips against Will’s fingers, and Will makes a noise in the back of his throat at the loss.

Hannibal takes a slice of strawberry from the platter, bringing it to Will’s mouth, and Will takes his fingers with it to the second knuckle, sucking the digits clean of the fruit as well as the fruit juice. Hannibal sighs, shifting closer to Will as Will pulls away, licking his lips lewdly while he watches the flush on Hannibal’s cheeks head towards his neck. 

They go back and forth like this for a while, each time Hannibal refuses to so much as accidentally brush his lips or tongue against Will at all, and Will has had it.

Will makes sure that the little cube of melon is wedged far between his two fingers, and he’s curious about how Hannibal will manage to avoid contact with him this way. His eyebrow is arched defiantly as he brings his fingers to Hannibal’s mouth, and Hannibal chuckles, taking Will’s wrist in his hand, bringing his fingers towards his mouth. Will is so certain that he’s going to figure out a way to avoid contact that when Hannibal sucks his fingers into his mouth deeply, rolling his tongue against them as suggestively as he can, Will moans. 

Will tugs him closer, abandoning any pretense of eating breakfast anymore, and Hannibal slots between his thighs perfectly. The height of the cockpit chair is perfectly level for them to drag their hips together as their mouths slant against one another’s, their tongues pressing demandingly while their fingers grope through all the layers of fabric that they’re wearing. Their exploration continues for a few minutes, but it’s too cold outside to to do much more, and they pull away eventually, their mouths red and puffy from kissing. 

Will’s hard as a rock, and the feel of Hannibal’s own erection against his is clouding his brain. “Go do some exercises. Walk away before I attack you.” 

“Not precisely motivating me to walk away, but alright,” Hannibal teases, pressing a lingering kiss to Will’s temple before leaving the warm space between Will’s thighs.

Will shivers at the loss of body heat as Hannibal walks away, and he adjusts himself as he settles again into the cockpit, looking out across the gray horizon. His eyes don’t stay there for long. Not with Hannibal stretching and bowing his body at the bow of the ship. 

He’s folding gracefully, stretching his calves and his shoulders, and the sight of his pajama pants stretched across his ass is so distracting that Will is unintentionally glaring at him. “Maybe you should do the exercises below deck?” He asks in a strained voice.

Hannibal turns to him, his eyebrow cocked as playfully as the corners of his mouth. “Nonsense. The ocean air is good for me. Am I troubling you, beloved?”

“No,” Will says with a sulk. “Is it hurting you to do that?”

“Not at all,” Hannibal breathes, bending as gracefully as a dancer to touch his toes. “My muscles are sore from disuse, but there’s no pain. Are you in pain, Will?”

“You’re a tease,” Will laughs, rolling his eyes. 

Hannibal goes up and down the stairs to the cabin a few times, and he’s winded after a few ascensions. “I think I’m finished for today,” he pants as he settles against the vinyl bench.

“Take your time. You’re not going to get back where you were before in a day. Maybe when we get to the house, we can get some weights and stuff that we can both use to get back into shape.”

Hannibal turns to him with a disbelieving expression. “And what shape is it that you’d like to get into? You’re in good health.”

“I used to go running and lift weights,” Will tells him, glancing out over the ocean. “My marriage settled me out, and I stopped caring. On the beach that day, I was so out of shape that I almost couldn’t carry you. You almost died because my body was too weak to help you. That will never happen again, Hannibal.”

Hannibal’s eyes are heavy as he watches Will meaningfully. “Perhaps we should both aspire to get into better shape. I won’t lose you because of something like that, either.”

“Would you like me to show you the basics for sailing?” Will asks.

“I would, actually,” Hannibal grins.

Will explains the basics about the GPS, as it’s very straight-forward. He doesn’t bother to explain to Hannibal that he doesn’t really need this device, Will is perfectly capable of navigating based on the sun and star positions. He doesn’t want to sound like a know-it-all.

He shows Hannibal what all the ropes connect to, and how to adjust the sails. Will thinks this is fairly straight-forward, too, but based on the expression on Hannibal’s face it might not be. 

“This is more dangerous than I thought,” he says quietly, looking up at Will as he ties down the ropes. 

“It’s only dangerous if you don’t know where to stand. It takes time to learn that,” Will says absently.

“All it would take is a stray wind and you could have been knocked from the boat while I slept below deck. I wouldn’t even have known you were gone.”

Will climbs down from the mast, touching Hannibal’s face gently. “It’s fine, Hannibal. I know what I’m doing. I’m careful.”

“All those times you were up here with no sleep, or distracted by something I’ve said. It never occurred to me how dangerous it is. I feel neglectful, right now.”

Will leans up and presses a kiss to his mouth, and Hannibal hugs him close. “I’ve sailed to Europe to find you before. I was alone, and I made it just fine.”

Hannibal pulls away abruptly, his mouth pursed into a line. “You sailed all the way to Europe to murder me?” 

Will chuckles, settling himself into the cockpit seat again to glance at the navigation. “I sailed there to be with you, Hannibal. How did you think I got there?”

Hannibal comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and nuzzling into his neck. “I thought you came with Jack.”

“Jack found you because you were careless about your kills. You were frivolous in your lifestyle. I took a boat there because I didn’t want anyone to trace me with a plane ticket purchase. I found you because I knew you. It wasn’t until I found Bedelia and realized that you were playing house with her that I decided I wanted to stab you. I was so jealous, Hannibal. Seeing her there with a fucking ring on her finger, saying all this shit to me about you being her husband… I could have burst into flames, I was so pissed off. Then I find you at the Uffizi gallery, drawing me and Bedelia. I could have slapped that sketchbook from your hand and set it on fire.”

“I can understand that. If I would have found you in a similar position, I might have killed you both,” Hannibal admits, pressing another kiss against his neck.

He didn’t understand at all, and the thought annoys Will. “I spent my life after you were gone, recovering from my injury mourning you and Abigail, and getting my boat ready to find you. When I was first released from prison,” Will begins carefully, deciding as he’s speaking whether he should be saying this or not. “Jack approached me with the idea to lure you, and I agreed. I was so angry with you for betraying me, that it seemed obvious to do it to you, too. I never expected to love you. I never expected to love who I was when I was with you. I’ve never been more myself than when you’re with me. You embraced me and cultivated the darkness in me into something that I learned to accept. I thought I was so special to you, so rare of a thing that you’d taken an interest in,” Will drifts off.

“You were,” Hannibal assures him, hugging him tighter. “Will,”

“Let me finish,” Will interrupts him. “Then I started finding all these other people that you had manipulated, and I started to think I wasn’t special to you at all. You liked bringing out the darkness in everyone, and you were grooming Bedelia to be by your side at one point. I started to feel betrayed by that, too. I felt like I didn’t matter to you aside from being a game that you liked to play. I was no different than anyone else that you groomed or manipulated. It was so… heartbreaking. There’s no other word for it. I know now what I mean to you. I know you love me. You have to understand that then, all I could see were the facts that were coming to light. I doubted you.”

“I forget that your trust in me was not misplaced. You were rare, Will. I play games with others, you’re right. I enjoy manipulating people, and initially that’s exactly what I did with you. I regret that, now, just as I did come to regret it, then. You meant more to me than I realized. I did try to groom Bedelia in my past, as I hoped to find an equal in someone else. She is not like me, though. It wouldn’t have worked, and I’m glad it did not because it brought me to you.”

“Did you get her to kill with you?” Will asks him, his voice smaller than he’d like it to be. “Did you finally groom her to be a perfect companion to you?”

Hannibal sighs against his throat, his palm resting over Will’s heart. “She killed someone, but it was unintentional. I had stabbed him in the temple with a knife sharpener, and she removed it. His death was technically by her hand. I was… very reckless after you. I killed when I wanted, how I wanted. I made sure to do it in front of her so she would be shocked and terrified by me. I was still mourning the loss of you, and I was careless because of it. Make no mistake, I can be vicious, Will. The darkness in me can be very shockingly cruel. I was worse than usual, though. I surrounded her with blood and carnage, provoking her and terrifying her. It was not whatever you think it was, between us.”

Will tips his head against Hannibal’s shoulder, pressing a kiss to his jawline. “She loved you, Hannibal. I could feel it when we found her. It was possessive and deep… maybe just as possessive as I feel about you.”

“She loved the idea of me. She liked the notion that she could control me and keep me under her thumb. She loved that she had a personal attack dog at the ready and let me assure you, I am no one’s attack dog. Least of all, hers. She wanted me enraptured by her, muzzled, and trained, mindlessly worshipful of her. It would never have happened.”

“I don’t want to do that to you,” Will admits softly, and Hannibal presses a kiss to his curls. “I want you to do as you please. I don’t ever want you to feel like I’m suffocating the life out of you. I… I won’t ever go kill someone with you because they sassed you at the grocery store, but I won’t tell you that you can’t. All I ask is that the displaying needs to stop, mostly to preserve us. I don’t want to lose you over something so ridiculous. When you find someone… when you find a real monster, I’ll kill them with you.”

Hannibal seems at a loss for words for a while, his heavy breaths ghosting across Will’s neck. “I promise you that I won’t display anyone. I also promise that I won’t kill in our home unless we are in imminent danger. I won’t intentionally bring darkness into your life, Will. I know you better, now, so I understand that while you do in fact have darkness in you, there is light, too. I’ve come to love both in equal measure, and I will do what I can to make you happy.”

“You have light inside of you, too, you know,” Will says softly, trailing his fingers against the back of Hannibal’s hands. 

“Any light that exists in me is from your radiance, Will. You are a lighthouse in an endless sea of darkness.”

Will’s throat constricts, and he turns his face so Hannibal can kiss him. Hannibal kisses him softly, his lips parting Will’s with a soft tongue and warm hands cupping his jaw. 

Hannibal pulls away eventually, and Will can feel him hesitating to say something. “What is it?”

“I have to ask you… if I kill someone, and bring something home… will you eat what I cook for you?”

Will sighs, glancing out over the horizon as he chooses his words. “I don’t know, Hannibal. I think I probably would. I’ve done it before, knowing what it was. It’s… Jesus, it’s difficult. I very likely would, yes. Never lie to me about what it is, though. Don’t tell me it’s beef or pork or some other bullshit. Be honest and let me decide for myself if I want to or not. Be honest with me about everything, that’s all I ask.”

“I promise you, Will,” he says softly, pressing kisses to the side of Will’s throat. 

Will considers what he wants to ask, trying to decide if the conversation has steered too far away to bring it up again. “Has there really never been anyone like me in your life?” 

“Never,” Hannibal says immediately. “I’ve looked, Will. I was so lonely for so long, that of course I looked. There has never been anyone who even remotely comes close to you.”

“I don’t mean romantically,” Will says softly. “I mean in terms of companionship. No one has known you like this? No one knows your darkness?”

“Aside from some of what I’ve allowed Bedelia to know, the answer is no. Only you, Will.”

The admission blooms something sweet in Will’s chest, and it spreads to his limbs and releases the tension in his shoulders. Hannibal must feel it, because he rubs a soothing palm between his shoulder blades. “Tell me something about you that no one else knows,” Will says with a quirk of his mouth.

Hannibal looks startled by the request, and he falters for a moment. “Well, uh… I was born with six fingers on this hand,” he says eventually, holding his left hand up for Will to see it.

“You’re lying to me,” Will laughs.

“No, I’m being quite serious. You can see the scar from where it was,” he says while showing Will the faintest pale white scar on the outside of his palm. 

Will lets out a snort, turning to Hannibal in disbelief. “I wasn’t sure what you would tell me, but if I had a billion guesses, it wouldn’t have been that. How old were you when it was taken off?”

“Very young, possibly six or seven,” Hannibal muses, thinking back to it. “Maybe even younger than that. I do remember it, though. It made playing the piano quite difficult. Quid pro quo, Will. Tell me something no one knows about you.”

Will bites his lip, thinking about the question. There were a lot of things that people didn’t know about him, but he guesses the thing that stands out the most is the thing he’ll bring up. “My first kiss was not a girl,” he admits out-loud for the first time in his entire life. 

Hannibal’s eyebrows rise in shock. “I thought… you said…”

“I’ve never done anything more with a guy until you,” Will admits, raising a placating hand. “I had a friend in middle school, we were… well, friends. He might have been my best friend at the time. He was just as shy as I was, and we liked to hang out and fish, hang by the docks, whatever. One afternoon before my Dad came home from work, we were tying off lures in my back yard. He told me that he liked me-liked me. As in romantically. It hadn’t even occurred to me, until he was kissing me. I don’t remember it all that well because my Dad came into the backyard and caught us.”

“What did he do?” Hannibal asks.

“He… freaked the fuck out. He beat my ass and sent Brian home. I wasn’t allowed to talk to him anymore, and by the end of the summer we were moving. My Dad might’ve beat the curiosity out of me that day.”

“Your… reluctance to accept me romantically all those years ago finally makes sense.”

“I don’t know that…” Will says slowly. “I don’t even know if I wanted him to kiss me that day. He just did it. I told you the truth when I told you that I’ve never considered the idea that I was anything other than straight. I’ve never been out and thought, ‘Oh wow he’s gorgeous,’ or anything like that. Not until you,” Will confesses.

“I am fighting the desire to psychoanalyze you right now,” Hannibal confesses, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of his neck.

“Don’t you dare,” Will laughs.

“It’s just that,”

“No, Hannibal.”

“If your father had not created such a negative association with the experience,”

“Can you not be my therapist right now, Doctor Lecter?” Will asks harshly, his cheeks heating with shame or anger, maybe a mix of both. 

“As you wish,” Hannibal says coolly, and Will feels him step away physically as well. 

Will grasps at his hands before he can leave. “It’s just…” Will sighs, twining their fingers together. “I know what you’re going to say. And I don’t know, okay? If my Dad hadn’t walked in, would I have learned to like it? Would I have realized sooner? I don’t know. And it doesn’t really matter, because I’m in love with you, so I’m clearly over whatever was holding me back, right?”

Hannibal sighs, wrapping his arms around Will’s shoulders. “I’m merely regretful that you may have missed out.”

“I don’t feel like I have,” Will admits softly. “Everything in my life has brought me to you. Quid pro quo, tell me about your first kiss.”

Hannibal laughs, glancing out over the water with his chin over Will’s shoulder. “I was in my late teens, probably. I was sitting in an art gallery, sketching, when a young girl that worked there came over to me. I recognized her as she worked most afternoons when I would visit. She told me that I was as beautiful as any piece of art in the gallery, and she just… pressed her mouth against mine. It was incredibly forward of her.”

“Did you find it rude, Doctor Lecter?” Will asks pointedly.

“If you’re asking if I killed her for it, the answer is no,” Hannibal chuckles. He points out over the horizon, gesturing to some darkness in the sky. “Is that a big storm? Is it something to worry about?”

Will shakes his head. “It’s heading North, can you see how the clouds are moving?”

“Ah,” Hannibal notes, pressing a kiss to Will’s temple.

“That girl in the gallery… she was right you know. You really are a fine piece of ass.”

The startled laugh that bursts from Hannibal’s mouth was refreshing to hear. “She said piece of art, not… not piece of ass.”

“Same thing,” Will laughs. “I saw a picture of you from a while back in Italy. Your cheekbones were an assault on my senses. You were so fucking gorgeous I couldn’t even make sense of it. I can’t even be mad that she molested your face so forwardly. I’d probably have done the same if I wasn’t so damned awkward.”

“The things you say sometimes are absolutely ludicrous,” Hannibal chuckles, but the hint of pink on his high cheeks suggests he appreciates the flattery.

“What’s ludicrous is that you’re even more gorgeous, now. You just keep getting hotter as you get older, and it’s not fair, really. Like a fine wine, you just keep getting better with age.”

“Says my beloved who drinks from the fountain of youth. You look at least fifteen years younger than you really are. When I first met you, I thought they were allowing trainees to lecture at the FBI. Never did I imagine you were in your early forties.”

Will rolls his eyes and turns in the chair, dragging Hannibal between his thighs. “I’ve never liked that about myself, it makes people that are my age talk down to me.”

“I can imagine that would… irritate you,” Hannibal agrees while leaning forward to scent Will’s jawline.

The sun had started to set, and the stiff breeze was decidedly much colder without the sun to warm them. “I think we should call it a day for sailing,” Will says, slipping from the seat and pressing a kiss absently to Hannibal’s jaw. 

“I’ll go down and start dinner, unless you’d like help?”

“No, you go ahead. I am so excited to have pork chops again,” Will laughs while settling out the sails, tying them off. “I’ll be down in ten minutes or so.”

Hannibal nods, a soft smile on his face as he heads below deck. 

Will goes through the routine of anchoring the boat for the night, a silly smile plastered on his face. If today was anything like what the rest of their lives would be, then he was grateful. He could imagine them like this in the years to come, still in love, still bantering and bringing out the best and worst in each other. He was happy, and the foreignness of the feeling wasn’t lost on him. It had been so, so, long since he felt like this. The tension in his shoulders that he’d been carrying for at least a decade was mostly gone. The answer to the question he’s been asking has always been Hannibal, and he wishes he’d have realized it sooner.

He goes below deck, grinning when he finds Hannibal with his sweater sleeves rolled up neatly, frying pork chops and trying to revive frozen vegetables. “Seeing you like this again… Hannibal, I’ve missed you.”

Hannibal glances up, grinning while flipping a pork chop. “I’m cooking dinner, Will. It’s nothing. You won’t be too impressed once you see what I’ve done with these ghastly broccoli florets.”

Will grins, going to the fridge to get himself a bottled water. “Frozen from here on out, Doctor Lecter. Once they’re gone, we’ve got canned vegetables.”

“I think our first dinner in France will be steaks with all the fresh produce I can get my hands on. We haven’t had red meat in a month, and I’m craving it.”

“I’m craving avocados, weirdly enough,” Will muses, sipping his bottled water. “I almost never crave them, but right now I want one.”

“It’s a healthy craving to have, at least,” Hannibal says, sautéing the broccoli with a frown on his face. 

Wil chuckles, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m also craving barbeque chips. Oh, Christ, I am phantom tasting them right now.”

Hannibal hands him a plate of perfectly seasoned pork chops and garlic buttered broccoli, and Will honestly doesn’t know why he’s ashamed to hand off a plate like this. It smells divine. 

They settle out at the kitchenette, and Will eats his dinner with gusto. “I don’t know how to cook pork chops,” he admits with a laugh. “They’re always tough, no matter what I do.”

Hannibal shrugs, taking a delicate bite of his dinner. “It could be that you over-cook them. I’ll show you what I do, next time.”

They finish eating, and Will presses Hannibal away from the kitchen sink with his hip. “You look exhausted,” he says quietly. “I’ll clean up, darlin. You go take a shower and relax.”

Hannibal presses a kiss to Will’s temple, letting his fingers linger on Will’s hip. “I’ll be right out, then.”

Will washes the dishes while Hannibal goes into the bathroom to take a shower. When Will is done, he dries the dishes and pans, putting them away. Hannibal emerges, and he’s freshly shaven and smelling divine, like clean soap and his delicious after-shave. “I feel so much better after that.”

“Told you,” Will laughs. “I think I’m going to shower, too. I feel like my hair is a grease trap.”

Hannibal settles onto the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped and his eyelids drooping. Will hurries into the bathroom, showering as quickly as he can so he can get back to Hannibal before he falls asleep, but it’s futile. He comes out, and Hannibal is snoring lightly, curled into the blankets on his side of the bed. Will sighs, tying off his pajama pants and walking to the other side of the bed, climbing in as carefully as he can. 

Hannibal looks completely exhausted by the day, and Will figures that makes sense. It’s his first day without a nap, and his first day doing some exercises. His mouth is parted gently, a soft, heavy exhale of breath audible as he sleeps. Will wants to press up to him, but he decides against it. Hannibal needed his rest. He watches Hannibal sleep until his eyelids droop, and sleep finds him eventually.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FAIR WARNING: This chapter is ENTIRELY porn. You heard me. If that kind of thing ain't your thing, you could technically skip it and know it happened. 
> 
> For those that have been waiting for this, I hope I made it worth the wait. <333

The next few days pass similarly, and Hannibal is well enough to help ready the boat with Will, not that it’s a burden for Will to do it himself. Still, he appreciates the hard play of muscles in Hannibal’s back when he’s reaching to tie off ropes and adjust the sails, and he likes the flush on Hannibal’s cheeks when he’s happy to be useful. 

His exercises continue while Will sails, and he’s getting stronger. His routes up and down the stairs grow more and more in number, and they don’t wind him as much eventually. He stays active from the moment he wakes up until the time he crashes into bed, and Will… well, he’s craving him.

Having Hannibal’s help with all of the cooking and cleaning frees up a lot of Will’s time to just keep sailing, and they’re making incredible time. Will never took into consideration that he’d be able to keep the pace for twelve to fourteen uninterrupted hours a day, and he reconsiders that they might be in France in a week and a half if they keep up like this. 

Will wants to tell him to do less, and to rest more, because he wants to go to bed at the end of the day and kiss him senseless. Instead, he’s usually snoring within moments of his head hitting the pillow, and Will is tormented by it.

Will wakes up before Hannibal four days later, and he thinks it has something to do with the hot press of a hard cock against his ass that wakes him. This hasn't happened, yet, and the feeling is so foreign, and so erotic, that the flush of arousal through Will feels like a furnace. 

He turns carefully, deciding that he'd like to wake Hannibal with his mouth. It was Hannibal's preference, after all.

Hannibal's eyelashes are pale against his cheeks in the early morning light. His mouth is gently parted, his plush, upper lip is slightly damp, as though he might have just licked his lips. Will leans forward, capturing the lip between his own, licking the soft flesh gently before letting it go. Hannibal stirs in his sleep, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he rolls onto his back, stretching softly and sighing. Will should probably let him sleep. He should. He needs his rest. He's been exercising and staying up through the day, and Will should just let him sleep... but he's not going to do that.

He sits up slowly, leaning over Hannibal's bare chest, flicking his tongue out softly against a nipple. He waits for a response, but there's none. 

Good.

He slides down Hannibal's prone body, so full of life, so warm, the scent of him so intoxicating that Will takes a moment to press a hard palm to his own erection, easing some of the tension there. Hannibal's pajama pants are slung low over his hips, and all it takes is a gentle tug to unwind the drawstring, and Will can pull them down enough to expose Hannibal to the air of the room, the scent of him hot and musky under Will's nose. Will takes him gently in his hand, flicking the head softly with his tongue, and Hannibal thrusts his hips minutely in his sleep. It was time to wake up.

Will sinks down over him, suckling harshly, and Hannibal's eyes snap open as his pelvis lifts from the bed, his fingers sliding into Will's curls desperately. " _Will_!" he rasps out, his voice heavy from sleep.

Will works him gently with his mouth for a few minutes, lapping with his tongue against the head, and suckling against the vein on the underside of his cock, deepthroating him at his leisure. Hannibal settles against the pillows, his mouth falling open as his eyes watch Will raptly. His hips are thrusting up gently, and Will allows him to take, loosening his jaw to allow the extra room for his thrusts. 

Will's hands busy themselves gliding over his lower abdomen, then his balls, rolling them and cupping them gently while his mouth bobs over Hannibal's length. Will lets him go only long enough to yank his loose pajama pants from his legs and crawl between his spread thighs before he sinks his mouth back over him. Hannibal looks undone in the bed. His knees draw up, and Will takes his leg and throws it over his shoulder, allowing him the leverage to thrust more fully, if he wants to. 

He takes the invitation beautifully. Will moans around him as he uses the leverage to thrust deeply, his cock nudging the back of Will's throat harshly. The urge to gag is strong, and Will pulls up a bit, hollowing out his cheeks to create the suction that Hannibal is looking for. Hannibal moans at the tighter suction, his fingers lacing desperately into Will's hair as he pumps himself in Will's mouth, his thighs tensing as he spills down Will's throat. 

Will almost chokes, the sheer amount of it is still a surprise. He swallows what he can, cleaning the rest up once his aftershocks have died down, licking gently at the mess that's leaked out. Every swipe of his tongue to clean up causes Hannibal to tremor violently, the moans coming from the older man are obscene with each deliberate swipe of Will's tongue.

"Will, I can't," he sobs, his knees drawing up as his hips jerk up into Will's mouth. Will lets him go from his mouth, taking one last flick at the head before he does. He crawls back up Hannibal's sweating body, licking at his nipples and his clavicle, then suckling a bruise against the base of his throat as Hannibal's breathing comes back to normal. Hannibal reaches out for his face and tugs him up, slanting his mouth over Will's and devouring him.

Their teeth click as Hannibal delves deep, his tongue sweeping the cavern of Will's mouth while Will moans, deciding he'd suck on Hannibal's tongue, too.

Hannibal pulls away gently, tucking curls behind Will's ear. "I told you I'd wake you up with my mouth," Will laughs.

"You just about killed me," Hannibal chuckles, his head falling back into the pillows. "I want more than this. I want... _more_ , Will."

Heat shoots straight to Will's cock, and he nods. "Like what?"

"I want you inside me, I want you," Hannibal begs him, arching his back invitingly while his legs spread a bit, making room for Will to fill the space.

Will wants to. Oh, _God_ , does he want to. If he hurts him, though, he would be completely miserable. "Are you sure? Do you think-"

"Don't make me beg, Will," Hannibal sighs, wrapping his fingers around Will's cock through his pajama pants. He's splayed out under Will, his body so gorgeous that Will can't even think, and all he can find himself doing is nodding in agreement as he strips his pajama pants off of his body.

He reaches over to the side table next to the bed for the bottle of lube, uncapping it and working some into his fingertips. "You'll have to tell me if I'm doing something wrong," Will says softly. "I've never... This is my first time doing this, so please. Hannibal, tell me if something hurts."

Hannibal nods, "Of course, yes."

Will leans over his body, allowing his hard cock to drag against Hannibal's softening one while his mouth slants against the older man's, allowing their tongues to sweep against one another a few times before pulling away. Will settles out, the front of his thighs flush against the back of Hannibal's, and he reaches between them to rub his lubed fingers against the tight muscle, heat flaring in his gut as it flutters against his fingertips.

"You are so fucking gorgeous," Will confesses, his tone low and husky. His eyes flick up to Hannibal's face as he continues gently pressing at the muscle, testing its give gently with his fingertip. "Do you know how gorgeous you are?"

"Will," Hannibal moans, shaking his head as though he can't manage another word. It sets Will off when Hannibal uses his name like that, and he's always using his name like that. He calls Will by name, even when it's obvious he's talking to Will and only Will. He uses it like a prayer, the single syllable rolling from his lips and tongue in adulation, as though he's gone to church and he's praising a deity. It never ceases to amaze him that he manages to bring Hannibal to this point, and he'll never stop being grateful for it.

He presses a finger just inside, watching the muscle wrap around his fingertip eagerly. The heat and constriction around the single digit is so startling that Will almost doubts he's going to ever fit inside, but he'd damned try. He hooks his finger against the inner rim of the muscle, testing the give of it and sinking his finger deeper, twisting it until it’s brushing softly against that spot deep inside, and Will glances up, noticing that his lovely cock was slowly filling with every deliberate strike of his finger against his prostate. He drizzles more lube between them, withdrawing his finger to the first knuckle and working his middle finger inside, too. Will's mouth is open as he flicks his gaze between his fingers buried inside Hannibal's body, and Hannibal's dark eyes, watching him in absolute devotion. 

Will is captivated by the stretch of the muscle around his fingers, and he tugs them against the inner rim, pressing his thumb against his perineum and stroking soft circles against it. "Fuck," Will sighs, dragging his tongue against his bottom lip. "Do your fingers look this good inside of me, Hannibal?"

Hannibal moans, tilting his head back and exposing his long throat. "Yes, Will," he says desperately.

Will grins, scissoring his fingers a bit to stretch him. He adds more lube, working in his ring finger, and the constriction around them is sheer bliss. His cock is hard, now, and Will cannot help himself when he leans over his hip and takes him in his mouth again. The noises that Hannibal is making urge him on, and he presses his fingers up to drag against his prostate while his other hand rubs gently against his perineum. Hannibal is absolutely writhing, now, and it's a heady feeling to know that he was the one bringing Hannibal this much pleasure.

If he keeps up like this it won't last, so he regretfully lets him go from his mouth, settling back on his knees. "Are you ready for me, Hannibal?"

"Yes," he pants, drawing his knees up higher and resting his calves over Will's shoulders. "Please."

Will slides his fingers from Hannibal's body and slicks his cock with more lube, flinching at how painfully hard he is. It wasn't about him, right now. It was about Hannibal, and he was going to do everything he could to make sure this was fucking good for him.

He presses the head against Hannibal's entrance, pressing slowly inside until he pops past the ring of muscle. "Oh, fuck," Will moans. It's so tight, and so god damned intense being with Hannibal this way. He glances up at Hannibal's face in disbelief, his mouth hanging open as he slides in as slowly as he can. 

Hannibal looks wrecked, his face flushed, and his mouth parted. He lets Hannibal's legs slide from his shoulders so he can lean forward and bring their mouths together, their tongues brushing as he sinks in more and more with tiny, short thrusts. He bottoms out, their pelvises pressed tight against one another while they gasp into each other's open mouths. Hannibal's hands are on his back, his biceps, trailing against his collarbones and his jaw. Will is very much content just cupping Hannibal's jaw in his hands while his tongue licks into his mouth. Hannibal's hard cock is trapped between them, and Will can feel the damp head brushing against his stomach now and again.

Will slides out slowly, sinking back in at the exact same pace. Hannibal tucks his fingers into Will's curls and tips his head, kissing him so deeply that Will moans and his hips inadvertently pick up their pace without him realizing it. Will wants to see where their bodies are joined, and he reluctantly sits up, watching in awe as his slick cock disappears inside of Hannibal's body, his entrance reddened and stretched tight around him as he slides in and out. He brings his fingers to where they're joined, reverently touching the tight muscle, and brushing his own cock with the edge of his finger as he feels around. "What do we look like, Will?" Hannibal asks, his voice ruined. 

Will continues thrusting, reaching for Hannibal's hand to bring it where they are joined too, allowing him to feel Will's slick cock gliding in and out of him. Hannibal touches his cock gently, his fingertips brushing against him every time he slides out, and the sight of him feeling between their bodies where they’re joined like this makes a hot pulse of arousal spread through Will’s gut. "It looks like we're made for each other," he gasps, his mouth parted as he adjusts the angle of his hips. "It looks like you are made for me, Hannibal. You're mine. _Mine_."

His hips drive forward and nails the spot inside of Hannibal, and he cries out, his pelvis lifting from the bed. Will glances up to look at his face, and he notes that there is dampness against his lashes. Will leans over his body to cup his face, driving inside of him deeply as he presses his mouth to his eyes, kissing away tears. His thumbs caress his beautiful alpine cheekbones, and he presses desperate kisses to Hannibal's mouth through panted breath. "I love you, Hannibal, love you," he sobs, his hands growing desperate and sinking into Hannibal's hair, grasping while his mouth devours the older man's own. 

His thrusts grow more urgent, and he reaches between their bodies to wrap his fingers around Hannibal's cock, jerking him in time with his thrusts. Hannibal arches off the bed, his hands clawing against Will's back as he pounds into his body. Will doesn't want to come yet, but it's too much. All of it is so damned overwhelming. There's a fog of Hannibal's emotions around Will, and all of them are worshipful and intensely focused on Will alone. There's nothing to distract Will from his pleasure, or Hannibal's for that matter. It's just them, and their pleasure, and their love for each other. It feels like Will's heart is going to stop, it's so heavy.

The electrical charge between them is arcing, sending rapturous zings of pleasure through his body as the current between them finally finds somewhere to ground itself. It seems insane that Will has never experienced anything like this in his entire life. It seems even crazier that they've never let this passion for each other consume them like this until now. 

Will’s hips snap roughly, and Hannibal breaks away from suckling bruises against Will's throat to moan, his head thrown back as he comes between their bodies with a broken sob.

The clench of tight muscle around his cock pulses in time with Hannibal as he finishes, and Will thrusts desperately through it. The fluttering muscles around his cock tear the orgasm from him, his cock pulsing hot and wet inside of Hannibal's body. Will keeps thrusting gently, moaning over how wet and hot it feels now that Hannibal is full of his spend. He loves the very idea of it, marking him this way. 

He stills his hips as he comes down, resting most of his body weight over Hannibal while their mouths drag lazily, and their hands trace idle patterns on each other's sweaty skin. His mouth is soft against Will's, and Will licks into his mouth, savoring his taste, and savoring him. 

Will sits up eventually when he feels his cock softening inside of Hannibal's body. He wants to see what he's done, and once again, he's glad he does. 

He pulls from Hannibal's body gently, and the trickle of his come immediately leaks out of the reddened, loosened, hole. Will can't help himself as he reaches between them, pressing his come back inside with his fingers, feeling the hot slick that he's left behind. His entrance is loosened enough now that it's no work to press into him, it's just pleasure to feel him this way. 

Hannibal can barely stop writhing on the bed, and Will lessens his movements, only gently touching the muscle instead of fingering him. "You are beautiful," Will whispers while glancing up at Hannibal's face. "Did I hurt you?"

"Not at all," Hannibal breathes, scrubbing a hand across his face as Will continues exploring his slickened entrance. "This was... Will, I never imagined it would be like this. You... it's like you can't take your eyes off me. I never expected that."

"I can't look away from this," Will chuckles. "My God, Hannibal. How am I ever going to leave you be after this?"

"I'm hoping that you don't. Are you enjoying yourself?" Hannibal asks with a tired laugh, his eyes glittering at Will in the early morning light. 

"Yes," Will admits slowly. "I made a space for myself in your body. I was right here," he says softly while pressing his fingers deeply inside again, earning a harsh gasp from Hannibal under him. "I was inside of you. What I'd like to do right now is clean you with my mouth. Would that disgust you?"

Hannibal's mouth falls open and he shakes his head almost in disbelief. Will sinks between his thighs, licking his own spend, the tang of Hannibal, and the chemical taste of lube from his entrance. He takes his time, lapping and teasing in equal measure until Hannibal is flinching away from it. Will doesn't want him to be miserable, so he trails his kisses up his hip, licking Hannibal's spend from his abdomen and stomach as well.

Hannibal is gasping beneath him, his fingers twirling into Will's hair. "I love you so dearly, Will. I could spend the rest of my life with you, and still be unable to predict you."

"You _could_ spend the rest of your life with me?" Will asks with a laugh, nipping at Hannibal's hip bone before gliding up to press wet kisses to his stomach, chest, and sternum. "You _will_ be spending the rest of your life with me. You are mine." Will kisses his jaw and his neck, nuzzling into the delicious scent of his aftershave while Hannibal chuckles, wrapping his arms around Will's shoulders. 

"Of course, beloved," he sighs, pressing kisses to Will's temple and cheek. 

"I am starving. I hate killing the mood like this, but I might die if I don't eat," Will laughs, resting his cheek against Hannibal's chest. 

Hannibal grins, his fingers still laced in the damp curls on Will's head. "We're out of eggs, and we don't have fresh fruit. However, we do have oatmeal and frozen strawberries. I think we have almonds."

"Sounds perfect."

Will goes to the bathroom to dampen a cloth with warm water and comes back to the bed to clean Hannibal up better than his mouth did. He cleans his abdomen and his stomach, flipping the cloth to a clean side to swipe very gently at his entrance, cleaning it carefully. "I meant what I said," Will says softly, his eyes glancing up briefly before turning back towards what he was doing. "You were made for me."

"A gift from fate," Hannibal muses. "I feel the same way about you, my love."

Will smiles softly, leaning forward to press a kiss to the soft hip bone that was demanding his attention. "I should go get us moving," he says regretfully. 

"Yes," Hannibal agrees. "Go ahead, I'll bring us something to eat."

Will groans as he hoists himself from the mattress, tugging on his warm pajama pants and his green sweater from the side of the bed. He goes to start a pot of coffee, and he watches as Hannibal pulls himself from the bed, wincing a little bit as he clenches his buttcheeks. "I hurt you, didn't I?" Will asks mournfully.

"No," Hannibal assures him. "It's not painful, not by a mile, Will. It's... It feels empty, now. I don't know how else to describe the feeling."

Will pours himself a coffee, sipping it gently while he watches Hannibal get dressed. "I look forward to finding out," he says eventually.

Hannibal arches an eyebrow at him, his mouth quirked in a grin. "Go sail, please. Before we never leave the cabin."

Will grins, turning tail and heading above deck. The sun is out today at least and being in direct sunshine takes most of the chill out of the breeze. He gets the boat moving, settling into the cockpit to sip his coffee and admire the gorgeous early morning colors in the sky. Hannibal joins him after a few moments, handing him a bowl of oatmeal and hot strawberries sprinkled with brown sugar and toasted almonds. 

It's absolutely divine, and Will basically licks the bowl clean.

Will lets Hannibal take over sailing while he goes below deck to clean up the dishes and pour them both another coffee, rejoining him when he's finished. Hannibal is sitting at the cockpit, a self-confident little arch to his spine. "You look really pleased with yourself," Will teases with a laugh as he hands him a fresh cup of coffee. 

Hannibal takes it from him, their fingers brushing deliberately as he does. "I'm not doing anything difficult, Will. Still, I feel much better than I have in the last week."

"Clearly," Will grins, leaning over to kiss the smugness from his face. It doesn't work, in fact it only makes him more smug. 

Hannibal does some light exercises for an hour or so, abandoning them when he abruptly lays flat on the deck. "What's wrong?" Will asks, chuckling.

"You've tired me out too much for this," he complains. "My abdominal muscles are sore."

"Take a break, then. There's a tote with old paperbacks in the cabin, and the cabinet above the bed has notebooks. I have regular number two pencils in one of the drawers by the bed, if you're really motivated to sketch something."

Hannibal sits up, resting his forearms against his knees. "I think I might, actually. I wish I had charcoals, but one must make do."

"One must," Will agrees, laughing when Hannibal turns a glare on him. Hannibal goes downstairs, and Will is thrilled to notice that he does so quickly and without a hand pressed to his side. He does it like he's got no pain, and the thought alone makes Will smile so wide it aches his cheek.

Hannibal comes back a few minutes later with a fist-full of pencils and an old notebook, settling into the vinyl bench comfortably with one knee thrown over the other. He sketches for the better part of the afternoon, until he decides to head down and start dinner. 

Will sails until the sun has gone down, dropping anchor and tying down the sails. The moment he opens the cabin door he's assaulted by the delicious scent of something roasting, and his mouth waters immediately. 

"What are you making? Fuck, it smells good," Will moans, gripping Hannibal's hips as he noses around the counter. 

"Chicken," Hannibal tells him. "Go shower, please. You need it desperately."

"So rude," Will laughs, but he knows it's also one hundred percent accurate. "Do I have time now, or?"

Hannibal nods, fussing with something at the stove. "If you're quick about it, yes."

Will grabs a clean pair of pajama pants, and closes the bathroom door behind himself. His shower is blissful, and he scrubs at his scalp and skin roughly, sloughing off all the dirt and grime that's accumulated on him. He shaves his face quickly once he's out of the shower, grinning as he rubs a drop or two of Hannibal's aftershave against his smooth cheeks. 

When he emerges, the abrupt flare of Hannibal's nostrils coupled with the darkening of his eyes tells him that he knows Will is wearing it, and that it's driving him nuts that he is. 

Wil grins, taking a plate of perfectly roasted chicken thighs and seasoned rice from Hannibal's pro-offered hand. "Wow, this smells awesome."

"I'm glad," Hannibal says stiffly. They settle at the table, and Will moans at the burst of flavors on his tongue when he takes his first bite of chicken. "You made this with just the shit I had on this boat. I almost don't believe it."

"It was delivery, you missed the water taxi," Hannibal teases drolly. 

Will moans again when he tries the rice, licking his lips to pull in the buttery herbed flavor on them. "Ugh, that's good."

Hannibal eats, but his fist is gripping his fork like he's trying to break it, and Will pulls his thumb into his mouth to lick the juice from the chicken off his finger. "What's the matter?" he asks cluelessly.

Hannibal's eyes are dark as night as he watches Will, completely heedless about how he's baited a predator all night long. Hannibal shakes his head, turning his attention back to his meal and eating quietly. 

Will keeps moaning as he eats, enjoying the food and licking his fingers, and he's genuinely not aware of the effect he's having until he stands to do the dishes, leaning over the sink to pull a pan towards himself. 

Hannibal grabs his hips from behind, and Will stills as he reaches for the pan. He turns his head in question, and Hannibal presses his pelvis to Will's backside, dragging the hard length of his cock against the seam of his ass. "What-"

"You've teased me all night," Hannibal says venomously, and Will arches an eyebrow at him. 

"How? What did I do?"

"You wear my aftershave, marking yourself with my scent," he grits out, tugging Will's pajama pants down roughly along with his own. He presses his cock between his cheeks, gliding it back and forth and making Will drop to the counter on his elbows, moaning as he grips the edge of the countertop. "You moan like that throughout dinner, licking your lips and fingers, looking so beautifully tempting that I can barely eat."

Will arches against the hard press of his cock, but Hannibal leans away. "I have to prepare you, first. It would be far too unpleasant if I didn't."

"Then do it," Will grits out, arching against him again.

Hannibal chuckles, dropping to his knees behind Will's back. He spreads Will's cheeks with his thumbs and licks in as though he's starving, pressing his lips and tongue against his entrance as though he were making out with Will's mouth. Will's legs are trembling as Hannibal takes him apart, and his throat is raw from the constant low moan that's escaping his lips. " _Hannibal_ ," he manages to grit out. "Oh, God, Hannibal."

Hannibal adds a finger to his attentions, pressing in and hooking it gently against his rim. The gentle tug feels so fucking strange, but the hot press of lips and tongue feels incredible. "You taste so good, Will," Hannibal says, nipping gently at his ass cheek before delving his tongue back in and then flicking it teasingly against the rim. 

"Hannibal, please. _Please_ ," Will begs, scrambling to press backwards or away, he's not sure. Just something that feels deeper than this. Something more.

Hannibal pulls his fingers and his tongue out, and Will turns his head to see what the hell the holdup is, when he feels Hannibal scrape his day-old stubble on his chin roughly against his hole. "Oh fuck!" Will bellows out, knocking the pan to the floor as he flinches away from the rough sensation. Hannibal's hands on his hips keep him from getting too far, and he immediately licks back in with a soft tongue, alternating randomly between roughly scraping him with his stubble and licking softly with his lips and tongue. His fingers are pressing in, stretching, and sinking deep while his tongue presses against his rim around his fingers, and Will almost can't hold himself up through it. 

Hannibal drizzles lube over his fingers, adding a third finger and stretching him gently, pressing kisses to his lower back and tailbone. "You asked if my fingers inside of you looked as good as yours do inside of me. There is nothing more beautiful than your body making room for me, Will. Nothing."

Will gasps when Hannibal curls his fingers, pressing deliberately against his prostate and making him writhe in pleasure against the counter. "I'm ready, Hannibal, please."

Hannibal stands, tugging Will's body up from the counter so they're pressed back to front, and he reaches between them to angle his cock, pressing inside slowly. It stretches almost to the point of pain, and his body finally allows him to pop past the ring of muscle, stretching slowly around his girth. Will swallows air as he tries to adjust, and Hannibal presses gentle kisses to the side of his throat and under his jaw while his hands slide gently from his chest to his waist before settling at his hips. Hannibal slides in slowly, thrusting just barely so he can work his way inside. Will is sweating profusely now as his body works hard to make room for Hannibal, stretching to the point of discomfort as he bottoms out against Will's ass. 

Hannibal lets him adjust to the intrusion, pressing damp kisses to the nape of his neck and rubbing soothing circles with his palm over his abdomen, but Will wants him to move.

He presses his hips back, and then forward, feeling the hot drag of Hannibal's cock inside of him and making him moan as he does. "Will," Hannibal praises, wrapping his arms around Will's torso and running his fingertips against his throat. He begins moving gently, only small, shallow, thrusts. Their bodies are too tightly pressed together to allow for much else. Will turns his face, and they share a kiss over his shoulder that's mostly just wet tongue and soft lips, Will reaching to weave his fingers into Hannibal's hair.

Hannibal’s hand reaches around his hip, just cupping his hard cock against his abdomen and making him moan. “Beautiful man,” Hannibal says reverently, trailing his hand upward to trace his fingers against the scar on his abdomen.

Will leans forward a bit, widening his stance in a clear invitation to pick up the pace. Hannibal obliges, rocking into him more purposefully while his hands slide down the arch of his spine, gripping his hips tightly. Hannibal tips his hips forward a bit, and it changes the angle perfectly enough for Hannibal to brush his prostate on every thrust back in, and Will shudders at how much pleasure that brings. He feels so full, being with Hannibal this way.

In a way, it seems fitting. Hannibal has made room for himself in Will’s mind and his heart. Carving out a space for himself inside of Will’s body seems like it was inevitable. Like an eventuality that has been coming for a long time.

Will moans as Hannibal thrusts more forcefully, their skin slapping lewdly against the kitchen counter. “Hannibal,” Will bellows out, his legs shaking through the hot, rippling, waves of pleasure every time he brushes that little spot inside of him. 

“I want to see you,” Hannibal begs him, tilting his body up against his chest. 

The thought of Hannibal pulling out of him right now is repulsive, but the idea that he could be seeing what he’s doing to Hannibal… it makes it worth it. Hannibal pulls out from him gently, and Will turns in his arms, dragging his mouth against his own. Will walks him backwards to the bed, their mouths still fused as Hannibal’s legs hit the side of the bed. He crawls backwards against the sheets while Will crawls over him, straddling his lap. “Can we do it like this?” Will gasps as Hannibal glides his cock against his loosened entrance. 

“Do you want to?” Hannibal chuckles, his eyes glittering up at Will in blatant adoration.

‘Yes,” Will moans, adjusting his hips and sinking his body back over Hannibal. The change in position makes it feel like Hannibal is deeper like this, and Will can barely take in a breath as his hips settle out over him. Will grasps at his chest, digging his fingers into his chest hair, as he experimentally rolls his pelvis over him, his mouth open and his head tipped back as he gasps through the shock of pleasure it gives him. Hannibal glides his hands across Will’s chest, cupping the base of his neck in his large hands. Hands that have killed and maimed, hands capable of so much pain, but not with Will. Not anymore.

Will figures out how to do this properly, lifting his hips and dropping them back down, creating a rhythm that makes Hannibal arch against the mattress while he finds his pleasure. Hannibal leans up, reaching around his waist to feel where he’s buried inside of Will’s body, and the gentle press of fingers around his stretched hole makes his hips stutter in their movements. “Feel this,” Hannibal encourages him breathlessly, and Will does.

He reaches behind himself, feeling the heavy girth of Hannibal’s cock where it’s stretching his body open, and Will slams himself down, rotating his hips desperately. “Fuck,” Will moans as Hannibal grasps his hips, pressing him down further over his cock.

Hannibal grasps Will’s cock, smearing the head with his thumb. Will adjusts his pace, lifting and dropping himself eagerly as he watches Hannibal bring his thumb to his mouth, licking the taste of Will from his finger. “Touch me,” Will pleads. “Please, please.”

Hannibal doesn’t need to be asked twice. He wraps his fingers around Will’s cock, jerking him in time with Will’s desperate pace, the both of them moaning breathlessly as they teeter on the edge.

Hannibal loves him. He knows that it should be blatantly obvious, but it’s still wild to bask in it. Being with Hannibal like this is completely unlike anything he’s every experienced before. While others he’s been with allow their minds to wander and think about other people and other things, Hannibal’s mind and body are solely focused on Will alone. For the first time in his entire life, he considers his empathy disorder to be a gift. It ties them together in a way that is wholly overwhelming. Will’s ability to drown in the depths of Hannibal’s emotions for him, when they are like this, or not, tether Will in the moment.

It makes it more intense for him. He thinks in turn, it makes it more intense for Hannibal.

Right now, as Will rides him into the mattress, all Hannibal is thinking about is Will. The emotion is fervent and worshipful. He knows Hannibal’s pleasure is intense. He can feel it with every rock of his hips and every soft, reverent slide of Hannibal’s hands over him.

He’s so close, and he doesn’t want to be. He wants this to go on for hours, but the heated zings of pleasure through his gut tell him it’s not happening. “Close,” he pants miserably. “Hannibal,” he breathes.

Hannibal sits up, wrapping his arm that isn’t working his cock around his waist, and their mouths clash against one another while Will grinds down against him, rolling his hips deeply.

Hannibal flicks his wrist around him, and he comes with a shocked gasp, his body tensing as his cock empties between them. It feels like it goes on forever, his body pulsing around Hannibal while Hannibal thrusts into him through it, his body clenching around him where they’re joined.

Hannibal moans desperately as Will’s body drags him over, the both of them gasping against one another’s mouths as Hannibal empties inside of him, thrusting gently as he does.

Will leans forward, kissing him softly while Hannibal cups his jaw, tilting his head so the kiss can deepen. They’re both covered in sweat, and the entire cabin smells like come. Will chuckles against his lips, basking in the over-whelming joy he’s feeling.

Hannibal grins, tipping his face up and kissing Will so softly that Will sighs. “I can feel how much you love me when we’re like this,” Will admits to him while trailing his fingers against Hannibal’s damp shoulder. “It’s like a fog, your emotions for me. It makes it…”

“More,” Hannibal agrees, pressing soft kisses to his collarbones. “I don’t know how anyone could think of anything else with you over them like this, It’s completely ridiculous to me.”

Will laughs, pressing his fingers into Hannibal’s damp hair. “No one has had me like this, Hannibal. Not this way, and not any similar way. It’s usually all dark rooms and under sheets, shielding myself from distraction. This is… decidedly different. I don’t have to hide from you.”

“No,” Hannibal agrees, pressing his lips to Will’s throat while his large hands cup the small of his back. “You never have to hide from me.”

Will adjusts his knees on the bed, and he winces when he feels Hannibal slip from his body. “Do you want to see what you’ve done?” Will asks with an arch of his eyebrow.

Hannibal groans under him, and his large hands trail down to grasp his ass. “You’re trying to kill me, I think. Of course, I do.”

Will grins, lifting his leg and allowing Hannibal to roll out from under him, and Will drops to his elbows as Hannibal goes behind him and lets out a heavy breath. Will can feel his come leaking from him, and he flinches when he feels Hannibal press his fingers to his entrance, pressing it back inside gently. “Beautiful,” Hannibal praises while dropping kisses to the base of his spine. 

Hannibal climbs from the bed to get a facecloth, dampening it with warm water and returning to Will’s side. He cleans him gently, and Will rolls onto his back to watch Hannibal clean Will’s spend from the both of their stomachs. 

Hannibal tosses the cloth, settling out against Will’s side and covering them with blankets. He collects Will in his arms, dragging him against his side so their bodies can tangle together. “Do you purposefully open your gift while we are intimate?”

“No,” Will sighs, pressing his cheek against Hannibal’s shoulder. “My gift… Hannibal, I can’t open it and close it like a door. It’s always open, in a way. I can focus it and adjust it, but I’m always aware of how others feel. It’s always been a horrible inconvenience until you. I feel like if I focused it while we were intimate like that, I would probably have a stroke.”

“I wasn’t kidding when I said my compassion for you was inconvenient. How it was implied was mostly untrue, though. What I meant is that it’s all-consuming. You’re all I think about. You’re all I want. Almost an obsession, in a way. I love you so dearly.”

Will presses a kiss to his shoulder, trailing his fingers up to tease a nipple to stiffness with a little grin. “It took me a while to admit how I felt about you. I hope you know by now that I love you just as much.”

“I know it,” Hannibal chuckles, swatting his hand away from his nipple and shivering from the sensation. “You’ve been very determined to prove it. You murdered five men in just as many minutes to get to me.”

“I barely think about that,” Will muses. “I’ve killed seven people since our dragon. Eight people in a few months. My becoming has been very violent.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. You seem to sleep very soundly. You’re not having nightmares?” Hannibal asks, twirling one of Will’s curls in his long fingers.

“No,” Will admits in surprise. “I haven’t even realized that until right now.”

“That’s good,” Hannibal assures him. “It means you are feeling comfortable with who you are. With whom you’ve become.”

“I think it has to do with you,” Will admits with a blush. “I’ve been… happy. Really happy. Even when you were sleeping most of the day in recovery, I was so relieved to be with you. Aside from you trying to die on me, I’ve been happy.”

“Such a romantic,” Hannibal teases, pressing another kiss to his temple.

“Who’d have thought?” Will laughs.

Hannibal sits up, glancing over to the counter where the dishes are sprawled across it, and then to the floor where the pan lays against the cabinets. “I should-“

“If you get out of this bed to do dishes, I’ll throw you overboard.”

Hannibal settles back into the bed, but he looks a little mutinous. “Tomorrow, then.”

Will wraps himself around Hannibal’s body, tucking himself under his chin. “I love you.”

Hannibal weaves his fingers into Will’s hair, tipping his cheek to rest against his head. “And I, you.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EXTRA long chapter for you because I've laxed in posting, and because there was no where good to stop, haha.

The rest of their journey goes without incident, aside from their incendiary physical relationship. Before, whenever Will had allowed his mind to wander to what their physical relationship could have been like, he’d always imagined it would be just as violent or competitive as the rest of their interactions. He never doubted it would be intense, but he always figured there would be an edge of pain in it.

He also always figured it would be in the heat of a moment, tapering down once they were sated. 

It wasn’t like that at all, and Will couldn’t be more relieved that he was wrong.

They map each other’s bodies, noting each and every erogenous zone that they have. Some of Will’s own are a surprise. He loves when Hannibal whispers hotly into his ear, tracing the shell of it with lips and tongue. He adores when Hannibal suckles at the spot just below his ear, to the side of his jaw. The feel of his soft lips and stubble there makes Will’s toes curl. He loves when Hannibal touches the skin of his lower back, gliding soft fingers along each vertebra. He also adores when Hannibal kisses him deeply, devouring his mouth. He loves the taste of him and the feel of his tongue learning Will’s flavor, savoring him like that.

Hannibal’s were a surprise, too. He loves when Will tugs at his nipples and grips at his chest hair. He would arch into every well-placed kiss that Will places along his stomach and ribs, which were thankfully not as prominent as they used to be. A lot of his pleasures were directly related to Will, and he wasn’t really surprised by that. He loves Will’s ass, and the thought alone makes him laugh. If Will were honest, he’s not sure why, either. It’s just an ass, but Hannibal begs to differ.

His hands grip it desperately when Will is riding him, and his palm cups it when Will is washing dishes or tying off ropes above deck. It never fails to make Will blush and laugh, and Hannibal seems to appreciate the reaction just as much as touching him. He loves eye contact. Will’s always known this, but he seems to thrive from the simple act of Will maintaining eye contact with him when they’re intimate. It sets him off, and Will loves setting him off.

He also adores perfunctory attention, and this is maybe the most surprising thing that Will’s noticed. A thoughtless kiss to his cheekbone, a warm palm to his shoulder, a hand at the small of his back when reaching for something, or even a brush of his knuckles against the nape of his neck all make Hannibal melt under Will’s attention. He picked up on it once when he stood to go below deck to get more coffee, heading to the vinyl bench where Hannibal was sketching and pressing his lips softly to his cheek. Will didn’t think about it, he just wanted to.

The beaming, blushing smile from Hannibal made him aware that he loves that sort of attention, so Will made the conscious effort to do it more. Judging by how many times it leads to the two of them sweating and writhing on the bed, it’s working.

The two of them are going to need to invest in some turtlenecks, as they both seem to really like marking each other’s throats with their mouths. Will wants to say it’s because they’re still in the honeymoon phase, and they’re alone, so it’ll pass once they’re around other people.

He knows that’s not true, though.

This isn’t going to pass or diminish. This isn’t a phase that’s going to settle out. The thought both scares him and intrigues him. He wonders if they’ll still burn for each other like this when they’ve both got arthritis and can’t bend their knees. He bets that they will.

He has Hannibal start brushing him up on his French. He speaks a little, probably more than he remembers, but it’s with a bayou twang, a Cajun inflection that makes Hannibal go pink with pleasure. He makes Hannibal speak to him in mostly French for a day and he has very little difficulty following along and responding (although stiltedly,) in kind. 

Two and a half weeks later, Will is pulling into the marina finally, and Hannibal is standing at the bow of the boat with the widest, most relieved smile on his face. He turns to Will, his hair blowing in the breeze, and Will’s heart aches with the love he has for him. 

They leave the boat with mostly everything in it, aside from what they’ll need to get through tonight. Hannibal can’t remember what he has at the house as far as clothing is concerned, but there is a washer and dryer, so Will packs their dirty laundry and brings it with them, along with a small bag of frozen chicken and vegetables. 

They take a cab to the house, and Will is absolutely in love with it. It’s the only one on the street, and it’s so charming, in its old European style. It’s clearly a very old home that’s been lovingly restored, right down to the finest details, including the arched windows. 

The property sits on a mostly open lot that has beautiful woods lined around three sides of it. He can see the stream in the distance along the right side of the house, glistening in the sun like diamonds. It’s exactly the kind of home Will would choose for himself, and he turns to say so to Hannibal, who is looking at him like he already knows how Will feels. 

“We’ll get you some fishing gear while we’re out tomorrow,” he smiles softly as he unlocks the door. He really didn’t need to speak; Hannibal knew him that well.

The interior is absolutely perfect with original hardwood floors and wood trim that have all been restored and stained dark. The chestnut color went perfectly with the light, oatmeal-colored walls, making the home look bigger than it was. The downstairs had a small foyer that lead off to the left into a decently large kitchen and dining room, and to the right a study and living area. The staircase that lead to the upstairs was in the foyer, beautiful paintings lining the way up the stairs.

He follows Hannibal into the kitchen, admiring the exposed wood beams and the dark cabinets that contrasted perfectly with the marble countertops. “It’s beautiful, Hannibal,” Will says, trailing his fingers along the kitchen island.

“I knew you’d like this house,” he chuckles while he opens the fridge to put the little bag from the boat away. “Oh,” Hannibal says in surprise, and Will turns to him to see what’s wrong.

The fridge is fully stocked, a bag of steaks marinating on the shelf, the produce drawers full. There’s milk and cream, butter, eggs, everything. Will looks to Hannibal in confusion, taking the carton of milk out to see the date, which is still good.

“Chiyoh,” Hannibal chuckles. “She must be nearby. It looks like our dear girl has been waiting for us.”

“How does she know we were coming here?” Will asks him, his tone almost harsh.

“I imagine she must be living nearby. I think we’ll be seeing her either later or tomorrow, then.”

“Great,” Will says sarcastically, and Hannibal turns a curious eye towards him as he closes the fridge.

“What is it, Will?”

Will sighs, running his fingers through his dirty hair. “I’m being petulant because I don’t want to share you with anyone, yet.” It’s the truth, too. He knows it’s inevitable. Hannibal is a social creature, and he’s aware that he’s going to be dressed up like a doll and taken out to the opera and art museums. He knows there will be dinner parties at some point with the pretentious people that Hannibal makes friends with. He knows all of this, but he’d accepted it as a future issue. Not a later or tomorrow issue.

Hannibal is biting his lip, and Will knows he’s thinking the same thing and deciding whether to bring it up or not. Will decides to put him out of his misery. “I know you’re going to show me off to all the pretentious jerks you become friends with at some point, but I liked the idea of it being later.”

“Chiyoh is not a pretentious jerk, Will.”

“She’s thrown me off a moving train and shot me. You’ll forgive me if I’m not thrilled to see her,” Will spits out venomously.

Hannibal considers that, tipping his head as he regards Will. “Perhaps you could find the silver lining. She’s clearly been here a few times, and nothing has alerted her to the property being watched by anyone. We’re safe, Will. If Chiyoh is nearby, then we’re safe. It also means we’re having steak tonight,” Hannibal laughs.

“How can I be mad when she’s left us steaks,” Will muses, biting back a grin. “We should shower, then. I can smell the both of us.”

“As can I,” Hannibal grins. “Come along, I’ll show you our bedroom, and the master bath.”

Will follows him upstairs, heading down the hallway to the farthest door along the left side. It looks like a hotel with the king-sized bed and fluffy white comforter. The walls are painted a muted gray-blue, and all the accents are in brushed nickel. There’s a dark gray chaise lounge along the large window that overlooks the side yard, the view just gorgeous woods open skies. 

There’s a door on the opposite wall, and it leads into a pristine bathroom that is all white and light gray, the only color being sapphire accents that include hand towels and soap dispensers. There’s a large walk-in shower along one wall, and a huge claw-foot tub that will definitely fit the both of them in it. The toilet is almost hidden behind a privacy wall, separating the double vanity from being next to it. 

Will drops the small bag of their toiletries and lube to the counter, putting their cologne and aftershave on it and storing a few bottles of lube out of sight below the cabinets.

Will arches his eyebrow when he finds the cabinet full stocked with really expensive looking soaps and shampoos, and he takes one of each thing and puts them in the shower. “She bought us designer soaps,” Will says with a laugh.

“Of course, she did. She knows me.”

“How does she have money for all this?” Will asks, turning to Hannibal curiously.

“She has an account that is linked to my family’s oldest accounts,” Hannibal tells him while stripping from his clothes and turning on the shower. “I’ve made sure she will want for nothing in her life, the same as you.”

“She means a lot to you,” Will realizes. The understanding comes that he will have to try to be friends with her. If she is Hannibal’s family, then he must accept her, too.

“She means almost as much as you do, yes,” Hannibal admits to him. “Maybe not almost, but… close. Any hostility she had towards you was in fear for me. Once she knows what you’ve done to get me here, I think you’ll find your relationship will mend.”

Hannibal climbs into the shower, lathering himself up immediately and Will’s throat goes dry as he strips his clothes quickly to get in there with him. 

Will takes the bar soap from his hand, glaring up at him as he does. “That’s my job,” he grins. 

Hannibal arches an eyebrow at him, smiling with his eyes as he allows Will to take over. They wash the filth of the last month from each other carefully, and Will relents that the designer soaps are worth it. They smell incredible, for one thing. They also leave his skin squeaky clean, which is its own separate pleasure.

Once they’ve both washed each other’s hair and their bodies, Will turns Hannibal in his arms, pressing kisses down his back. “I made you a promise, if you remember,” Will reminds him between kisses to his shoulder blades. 

“I vaguely recall you saying something provocative, yes,” Hannibal sighs, tilting his face up into the spray for second. He really was beautiful, even more so now that he’s healthy and healed. The brand halts his attentions, and he presses a kiss to it gently. “Do you have feeling, here?”

“A bit,” Hannibal admits, tipping his face towards Will. “It’s… muted.”

“I remember bits and pieces of that day,” Will says quietly, reflecting back to it with a pinched expression. “I was so certain I was going to die. First by your hand, and then by Mason’s…. Well, Cordell’s. By the time Cordell started cutting into my face, I was so resigned to my fate. I figured it was a better way to go than to die by your hand, with you killing me like one of your meaningless victims. Then I hear you come in the room to kill Cordell, and even then, I thought you were just interrupting so that you could kill me instead. I blacked out, and as I did, I remember thinking that you were killing me, somehow.”

Hannibal turns in his arms, any tentative arousal between them dissipated, judging by the dark expression on Hannibal’s face. “I’m sorry, Will. You can’t know how sorry I am.”

“I’m not looking for an apology anymore,” Will tells him, reaching over to shut the water off because it had started to cool. He reaches for a towel, wrapping it tight around Hannibal shoulders and then reaches for his own. “I just… I didn’t know that you had been tortured like that. I didn’t know that you were injured when you saved me. I don’t know if it would have changed that I sent you away when I woke up in my house with you, but I think it might have.”

“There’s no point in wishing that we would have done anything differently,” Hannibal replies, his tone slightly harsh. “We made the choices that we made, and now we are here. Why spend another moment tormenting ourselves with what might have been?”

“I saw that little notebook that you had with you that day,” Will confesses abruptly, his face heating with a little bit of shame. “It was in the evidence box during your booking, and I flipped through endless equations. You can’t imagine my surprise when I found out they were time travel equations. I didn’t need pure empathy to know that you had that notebook because you wished you could go back and redo certain things. A desire to correct the past only comes from regret, Hannibal.”

“How do you know what I was regretting, Will?” He asks, and his tone is almost shy with embarrassment.

“There were dates in there, too,” Will recalls. “One was from a very long time ago. I’m guessing the day you lost Mischa. Another date was the day you killed Abigail and stabbed me. There were other dates but I’m not sure what they were, although I know I was in your life during them.”

“The date I decided to frame you for my crimes,” Hannibal admits softly. “The date I cut into your head. The date I smelled your illness on you, but decided not to tell you about it.”

Will looks at him, his heart breaking in his chest. “And you ask me why I torment myself? We have to stop doing this, and I don’t just mean you, I mean me, too. When we’re feeling guilty for what we’ve done to each other, we should remind ourselves that we’re happy, now. No more notebooks filled with remorse, Hannibal. I mean it.”

Hannibal nods in agreement, his eyes sliding away from Will briefly. “For the record, you blacked out because that imbecile gave you a paralytic. He apparently didn’t realize that it paralyzes the lungs, as well. I had to breathe life into your body until the drug wore off enough for you to breathe on your own. He came remarkably close to killing you.”

“You had your mouth on me? Christ, how unfair that I was unconscious.”

Hannibal laughs, wrapping the towel around his waist and stepping out of the shower. “When Amy told me that you had given me CPR I was resentful that I didn’t remember your mouth on mine, as well.”

“You can kiss me whenever you’d like, now,” Will grins, stepping out of the shower and tipping his face up, pressing a kiss to Hannibal’s mouth for good measure.

Hannibal smiles against his mouth, tilting his head and kissing him soundly for a minute before pulling away. “I should endeavor to remind myself that you are extremely open to my affections, now. I might go so far as to say eager for them.”

Will laughs, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You’re either saying I'm romantic or calling me a slut. I can’t figure out which.”

Hannibal huffs in amusement, his face tinging pink. “You can rule one of those out simply because I would never consider you… well,” Hannibal hesitates, and Will thinks it’s adorable that he can’t say slut.

“Romantic?” Will teases, and it’s worth it for the full, bright, belly-laugh he gets in response.

“You’re ridiculous,” he says through a laugh.

“Yeah,” Will laughs, wrapping his arms around his prudish serial killer. “And I’m craving something right now, actually.”

“Oh?” Hannibal wraps his arms around Will’s waist, pressing a kiss to his temple. “And what’s that?”

“Steak,” Will laughs, and Hannibal huffs in amusement.

“I was hoping for something more carnal and less carnivorous, but alright. I suppose I’m a bit hungry, as well.”

I want to shave, but I can help you with dinner.”

“Let me shave you,” Hannibal offers, and the thought alone shoots through Will with a fiery heat. “And then you can help me with dinner.”

Will nods absently, unwrapping his arms from around Hannibal’s waist. “Sure, yeah.”

Hannibal pats the counter, and Will hops onto it while Hannibal fills the sink with warm water and gathers a fresh razor and a little cup that has soap and a brush. Of course, he doesn’t use something as pedestrian as shaving cream. Will is honestly surprised he doesn’t have a straight razor.

Will watches as Hannibal dips the brush into the sink, then rubs the damp bristles of the brush in the cup to create suds. “I’ve always wanted to do this,” Hannibal remarks absently. His long fingers cup Will’s jaw, tipping it from side to side as he lathers the brush over his stubble. 

Will pulls his lips between his teeth as he runs the brush over his upper lip, releasing them when he’s finished. “You should have said something, I’d have let you.”

Hannibal steps into the space between his thighs, the both of them only covered by the towels around their waist. Will is already suffering from his close proximity, and the feel of his tender fingers on his face aren’t helping. “I sometimes forget that I can ask you for things like this, now,” he admits, rinsing a gleaming razorblade in the sink before tipping Will’s head back to begin shaving him. His first swipe is incredibly gentle, and the razor must be a good one because there’s hardly any drag. “It’s still so astounding to me that I have you this way.”

The gentle scrape of the blade against his skin continues for a moment before he takes it away to rinse it in the sink. “Anything you want from me, Hannibal. And I really mean anything, just ask. Or don’t ask. Just do it. You don’t have to tip-toe around me anymore, and you really don’t have to worry that something you want will be too much. I’m not good with… affection. I don’t know when I should be doing something more, really. I’m relying on you to show me.”

Hannibal chuckles, bringing the razor back up to his face and carefully dragging it up his jawline. “The blind leading the blind,” he laments. His eyes have crinkled beautifully at the corners with his smile, and Will reaches out gently to touch them. “You convey your affections exquisitely, Will. If anything, your gentle regard has reminded me that I can ask, and that I can take. I only mean that sometimes it feels that I shouldn’t. Habits are hard to break.”

Will tips his head with the soft prompt of Hannibal’s fingers, making it easier for him to get to his cheek. “I used to have a lot of trouble with touch,” Will admits softly, and Hannibal glances up to his eyes briefly before looking back to his task. 

“I know you did. Why do you think I touched you so often all those years ago?” Hannibal asks with a quirk of his lips. “A gentle hand to your shoulder, or a palm to the side of your throat. Even standing just a few inches closer than normal would rile you, and I adored riling you. It worked, though. Eventually my touch and proximity were no longer offensive.”

“You were conditioning me?” Will asks indignantly, tightening his knees around Hannibal’s waist. “That’s manipulative, Doctor Lecter.”

“It was,” he agrees, although he does not look remorseful. “I wanted you to feel comfortable with my touch alone. It used to keep me up at night, imagining you shunning the touch of others but not of me.”

Will tips his head as Hannibal begins shaving the other side of his face. “I can’t be too angry with you. It might be fifty percent your conditioning, but it’s also fifty percent my desire to connect with you. I wanted it even before you started touching me, Hannibal. The physical aspect of our relationship isn’t based solely on physical attraction, although it sure does help.”

“Is it terribly strange for you to bed another man?” Hannibal asks, and he doesn’t sound nervous about asking it, merely curious.

Will stills his hand against his face, tipping Hannibal’s chin up so he can look at his eyes. “It hasn’t felt strange. Not even for a moment, Hannibal. I used to worry that my inexperience made it awkward for you, but I’m not even slightly uncomfortable with any part of you, or any part of our intimacy. I used to worry, before. I would imagine you taking off all your layers and standing before me, and I would wonder if I’d be able to touch you. If I would want to. It was ridiculous because the thought alone of you even taking your waistcoat off made me hard as a rock, but I thought that if I ever actually had you naked I wouldn’t be able to. Kind of ridiculous, right?”

“No,” Hannibal says softly, dropping his eyes back to his cheek to shave him. “It is unfortunately something that needs to be realized in person. It’s a relief to me to know that you never felt uncomfortable or pressured. The first time you saw me naked was the night after you stole me away from the hospital. If I would have known it was a test, I would have performed better.”

Will blushes, and Hannibal chuckles while smoothing his fingers against his heated cheek. “It wasn’t… a test. If anything, it was a moment of clarity. You were there, naked and vulnerable. You weren’t expecting anything sexual from me. I could look at you with a clinical eye and decide how I felt about you, that way. It wasn’t even a conscious thing, really. I was just looking at you and appreciating what I was seeing. I kissed your shoulder and your back, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world to do that. You weren’t clouding my mind with a fog of lust for me, all the desire I was feeling was for you alone. It was crystal clear, Hannibal.”

Hannibal regards him for a moment before dipping a cloth into the warm water and rinsing the excess suds from Will’s face. “Even if you would have decided that physical intimacy with me was not what you wanted, I would have stayed. I would have kept you in my life in any way you allowed me to.”

Will shifts forward on the counter and wraps his legs around his waist. His fingers find their home on Hannibal’s neck, tipping his face up so he can press a kiss to his mouth. Their lips press softly while their tongues sweep against each other, each tipping their faces to deepen it. Hannibal’s hands are grazing tenderly against his back, tracing the ridges of his spine and the shape of the muscles in his shoulders. Will pulls away, pressing kisses down the side of his jaw. “Do I smell different to you, now that we’ve… you know.”

Hannibal tips his head to give Will access to his throat, moaning when Will nips at his jawline. “You smell sated for perhaps an hour when we’ve finished. Otherwise, no.”

Will tilts his head back to laugh, gripping Hannibal’s shoulders as he leans forward to suckle at the skin of Will’s neck. “You’re telling me that I’m always broadcasting to you that I want you to fuck me. Is that what you’re saying?”

Hannibal growls against his throat, tugging his hips against his own so their erections drag against one another through their flimsy towels. “I am saying, my dearest, that I could keep myself buried inside of you for the rest of my life, and you would still want more of me. So yes, that’s what I’m saying.”

“The touching experiment,” Will pants as Hannibal shifts against him more desperately. “It backfired on you, Doctor Lecter. You’ve created a monster.”

Hannibal leans up to kiss him, and Will’s stomach chooses that moment to caterwaul its hunger into the echoing space of the bathroom. Will blushes, rubbing his stomach absently while Hannibal arches an eyebrow. They both laugh, panting through the peak of their ardor for one another. “My monster is hungry for something other than me, at the moment.”

“Oh, I’m plenty hungry for you. Just… also hungry.”

“Let’s get dressed and you can help me with dinner, then,” Hannibal says, pressing a lingering kiss to his mouth before pulling away. 

Hannibal heads into the bedroom, and Will hops off the counter to open his own aftershave this time, wondering about the reaction to this as he’s doing it. It smells so lightly clean that Will breathes deep as he rubs it into his cheeks. He doesn’t know why this scent pleases Hannibal exactly, but he intends to find out.

Will emerges into the bedroom as Hannibal is finishing getting dressed, and Will’s mouth goes dry when he sees him in a crisp gray button down and fitted black slacks. “I guess we did have some clothes here?”

Hannibal turns to Will with a grin. “I do, but unfortunately you don’t have anything here. You can either come downstairs as you are or borrow something from me until we do laundry.”

Will considers it, imagining Hannibal’s face if he came downstairs in the nude. If Chiyoh stopped by tonight, though, he would be mortified. Will is standing there blushing at the thought when Hannibal comes over to him, scenting his jaw and pressing a kiss there. “I’ve imagined this scent on you for a long, long, time. It’s much better than I imagined.”

“Why this scent, exactly?” Will asks, closing his eyes as Hannibal trails his nose against his cheek. 

“It compliments you perfectly. A good cologne or perfume should not cover up a person’s natural scent. It should pair with it and enhance it, combining into something entirely other. It does, by the way. I chose a scent for you that contains no musk. You don’t need it.”

Will tips his head, allowing Hannibal to scent him as he pleases. His nose and lips trail fire along his throat, pressing soft kisses to the tendon there reverently. “I need to go start dinner before you starve to death,” Hannibal chuckles.

“I’ll be down in a minute,” Will says breathlessly, and his stomach chooses to growl again for good measure. 

Hannibal presses a palm to it as it gurgles, and Will blushes in embarrassment as he steps away. “Comfortable clothes are in the dresser. Anything else you might wear is in the closet.”

Will nods as he leaves the room, and he rummages through the closet for anything that will fit him. He finds a comfortable looking green sweater and decides to wear it with a pair of black pajama pants from the dresser. All Hannibal has for underwear are black boxer briefs, and he holds them up with an arched eyebrow, debating if it’s crossing a line to wear someone else’s underwear.

There aren’t any boundaries between them, and he’s kind of interested to see what Hannibal will think when he sees it, so he pulls them on, adjusting himself in them. They’re a little bit loose on him, but they’re stretched tight across his ass, which fills them out embarrassingly well.

He grimaces in the mirror, turning to look at himself with a critical eye. He’d start jogging tomorrow, first thing in the morning.

He comes downstairs to the mouthwatering scent of steaks sizzling in butter, and Hannibal is chopping tomatoes and red onions, a mango off to the side of the cutting board. “You can chop the mango and some cilantro, if you don’t mind.”

“I have no idea how to chop a mango, Hannibal,” Will laughs.

“The same as you chop anything else,” he chuckles. “There’s a pit, peel it and cube it as you would a peach.”

Now peaches are something Will understands, so he begins, chasing the slippery flesh around on the cutting board with a knife. It’s so damned sticky that Will laughs, and his cubes are decidedly more mangled than Hannibal’s perfect cubes of tomato and finely diced onion. 

It all goes in a bowl anyway, and Will minces some cilantro while Hannibal squeezes a lime over the bowl. “Steak carnitas,” Hannibal says with a smirk. “We have a ripened avocado; I know you’ve been in the mood for it.”

The plate of food is gorgeous when Hannibal plates it. He made jasmine rice with cilantro and lime, and the steaks are perfectly rare and marinated in lime and something else that smells so damned good.

The little pile of mango pico de gallo is colorful against the perfect slices of green avocado, and Will moans as he settles into the kitchen island seat, barely waiting for Hannibal to join him before tucking into it. Hannibal places a glass of deep red wine in front of him, and Will mumbles thanks as he cuts into the steak and places a sliver on his tongue. The meat melts in his mouth, and he turns to Hannibal and places a thankful hand on his shoulder. “This is delicious, thank you.”

“It’s nothing, beloved,” Hannibal grins, watching him devour his plate with abandon. Hannibal makes perfect little bites of food, while Will just kind of mashes the rice and pico de gallo together, spearing steak with the mixture and shoveling it into his mouth. “You used to behave yourself at my table,” Hannibal muses. “It’s… oddly endearing to see you so comfortable around me, now.”

Will takes a sip of the robust wine, a perfect complement to the hearty steak. “I used to want to beg you for seconds, but it’s not polite. I never wanted to be impolite,” Will laughs. “It took me forever to figure out I wasn’t holding my wine glass correctly. I’m so relieved I never went to one of your dinner parties. You’d have been mortified.”

“I would have been so pleased to have you with me,” Hannibal tells him, bringing his first mouthful of wine to his lips in years. “Oh, this is good,” he moans.

“It’s been a while for you, huh? You never got a sip that night with Dolarhyde.”

“I did not,” Hannibal shrugs, sipping his wine again with a lick of his lips. “You did, you little devil.”

Will laughs as he reaches over to Hannibal’s plate to steal a few slices of avocado, and he glances up at Hannibal to gauge his reaction. It’s worth it. 

Hannibal arches an eyebrow at him, smirking as Will brings the slice to his mouth, blushing as he eats it. “Imagine me doing this while you have a swanky dinner party,” Will laughs, covering his mouth as he does. “You’d be mortified. Don’t pretend you wouldn’t be.”

Hannibal debates that, cutting a slice of avocado with his fork and bringing it to Will’s mouth, who takes it while maintaining eye contact. “I assure you, I wouldn’t be.”

Will eats the rest of his avocado, and they both clear their plates, patting their stomachs while grinning at each other like love-sick fools. “Want to get drunk off the rest of this wine and make-out?” Will asks, bringing his wine glass back to his mouth.

Hannibal chokes on the sip of wine he was taking, covering his mouth as he turns to Will, laughing. “Yes, I do.”

Hannibal loads the dishwasher while Will washes the counters and the stove. Hannibal takes the wine bottle and Will takes their glasses, each heading into the cozy living room to settle on the couch. Hannibal pours them more wine while Will builds a fire in the fireplace, opening the flute to allow the smoke out. Will settles into the cushions beside Hannibal, each sipping their wine while basking in the heat from the fireplace. “Does it get warm here in the summer?”

“Not like Louisiana, but yes, reasonably warm,” Hannibal says, tugging Will’s feet into his lap. 

“I wasn’t looking for Louisiana heat,” Will laughs. “It gets so hot you can bake cookies in your car, and the air is so wet it feels like you’re under water. That’s not pleasant, Hannibal.”

Hannibal hums, sipping his wine and rubbing Will’s bare foot with his thumb. “You have slender feet,” he remarks with a chuckle.

“You have dainty ankles,” Will counters, and they grin at each other over their wine glasses. 

“That’s a strange observation. I suppose no stranger than anything else we say to one another.”

“Want to lay by the fire? Would you be comfortable on the floor?” Will asks, leaning forward to brush his lips over Hannibal’s cheekbone. The firelight catches beautifully over the sharp angles of his face, and Will presses his lips to his jaw for good measure.

“I can get on the floor,” Hannibal grins. “Go in the closet over there, I think we have spare comforters in there.”

Will goes to the closet where there is in fact two comforters, and he takes them out and spreads them in front of the fireplace, making a reasonably fluffy nest out of the blankets. Hannibal tosses a few throw pillows onto the floor and takes the bottle of wine, settling out into the blankets and pillows carefully. Will strips off his sweater before nestling into the cushions too, as the heat of the fire is much warmer this close to it.

They settle out, their legs entangled as they face each other, and it’s obvious they’re both admiring one another in the light of the fire. Hannibal sips his wine, licking a drop from his lips as he glides his eyes appreciatively over Will’s body. His free hand his drifting over Will’s thigh where it rests over Hannibal’s own. “I used to adore looking at you in the light of the fire in my office,” Hannibal admits quietly. “Your skin in this lighting make you look particularly youthful. Your eyes, Will,” he says with a sigh. “I wonder what I’ve done to deserve this kind of bliss.”

Will bites his lip as he blushes, looking towards the fire while sipping his wine. “Do you know how attractive you are? I feel like you must because you can literally have anyone you want.”

Hannibal shrugs, sipping his wine and refilling his glass, holding the bottle out to refill Will’s own. “I know I can attract others,” he says carefully. “I also know my features are… sharper than most usually like. I assumed any romantic attentions I may have garnered before you were mostly in correlation to my wealth.”

Will snorts, sipping his wine that is making him decidedly dizzy by the warmth of the fire. “And you say I don’t see myself clearly. You are gorgeous. Your eyes are probably the most distracting color I’ve ever seen in my life. They’re almost reddish, sometimes. Right now, they look amber. Your cheekbones. God, I can’t tell you how much I like putting my mouth on them.”

Hannibal’s warm palm glides up his thigh, resting at the joint where it meets his hip. Will inches closer, sliding his other leg over Hannibal’s, and they’re close enough now that it’s almost awkward to drink from their glasses. “I want to taste this wine and the flavor of your skin at the same time,” Hannibal admits, and the timber of his voice is so deep and gravelly that it goes straight to Will’s cock.

“Not sure you can accomplish that without making a terrible mess, Doctor Lecter,” Will teases, placing his glass on the ledge of the fireplace so he can unbutton Hannibal’s shirt. He inches closer so he can press a kiss to each inch of skin as it’s revealed, unbuttoning the shirt slowly enough that Hannibal’s breathing hitches. 

Will opens the shirt by gliding his palms under the material, dragging his hands softly against his chest and shoulders. He scratches his fingers through his chest hair, tugging a nipple with his index finger and his thumb, rolling it gently as he leans forward to capture Hannibal’s mouth with his own.

Their tongues sweep into each other’s mouths while their lips drag softly. Will glides the shirt off his shoulders as they kiss, tracing his fingertips against his biceps as he slides it off his arms. Hannibal pulls back to switch hands with his wine glass so he can get his sleeves off. Once his shirt is off, Hannibal presses Will back with the palm of his hand so he lays back into the throw pillows. He undoes the string of Will’s pajama pants, sliding them down his legs and groaning at the sight of his erection tenting the tight boxer briefs he’s wearing. 

“I wore your underwear,” Will laughs, his face heated with desire and too much wine. “Is that weird?”

“No,” Hannibal sighs. “You’ve no idea what you do to me.”

“I think I have an idea,” Will whispers, gliding his palm against the heavy heat of Hannibal’s cock in his slacks. “Take off yours, too.”

Hannibal places his wine glass on the ledge of the fireplace so he can do so, shucking them from his legs with a laugh as he tips forward, catching himself with his elbow. “I’m a little drunk,” he laughs. “I’ve not had wine in at least a year, and it’s… well, you see.”

“Never seen you drunk,” Will grins. “It’s something I didn’t even know I’ve been missing.”

Hannibal settles over him wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs that match the ones Will is wearing, gliding their erections together through the silky fabric. “I’m about to make a mess,” Hannibal chuckles, reaching out for his wine glass on the ledge. 

Will arches an eyebrow up at him, watching as Hannibal tips his wineglass over Will’s bare torso. The wine is shockingly cool against Will’s over-heated skin, and Will sucks in a breath through his teeth, his nipples pebbling harshly against the abrupt temperature change. Hannibal leans over his chest, licking the wine from his chest and his nipple, suckling the nub between his teeth. Will arches against his mouth, spreading his thighs wider so Hannibal can settle between them. Hannibal pulls away, licking his lips with blown out pupils, looking down at Will with an intense expression. “Delicious,” he growls, dipping his fingers into his glass to rub down Will’s chest, chasing the damp trail with his tongue.

Will is pulsing in his boxers, and he’s mildly concerned that he might come from this alone. Hannibal tips the glass over his body again, the wine spilling over his chest and settling into his navel, where Hannibal chases the liquid with a lapping tongue. 

Hannibal leans back, sipping a little bit of wine into his mouth while he leans over Will’s body, dragging their cocks together as he brings his mouth down to Will’s. Will realizes as he opens his mouth that Hannibal has coated his tongue in wine, and it’s only enough that Will get’s the flavor of it when he slides their tongues together. Hannibal rocks over him, baring down with his hips to get some friction that they both need. 

Will grunts when Hannibal pulls away again, licking his reddened lips while his eyes travel down Will’s wine-stained body. “I wonder,” he says softly, tugging Will’s boxer briefs down his thighs only enough to free his aching cock from them. 

Hannibal sips his wine, letting the liquid roll on his tongue for a minute while his fingers jerk Will’s cock lazily. He discards the glass again to the ledge, gripping Will’s thigh in his warm palm. Will’s breathing is coming in harsh rasps, as he has an idea of what Hannibal’s about to do.

With the wine warmed from his mouth, Hannibal leans over his erection, sliding his lips over it as carefully as he can. None of the wine escapes his lips as they wrap around the head of Will’s cock.

The liquid isn’t quite as warm as Hannibal’s mouth usually is, and Will gasps as he feels the tip of Hannibal’s cool tongue flick against the head of his cock in his mouth, swishing the wine around with it.

It feels so fucking good that Will bellows out a moan, arching his back as Hannibal suckles him for a few minutes, and he pulls away to roll the combined flavor of Will’s come and the wine over his tongue. “Will,” he says reverently, leaning over him again to suck him back into his mouth. 

Will is fairly certain he’s never been this turned on in his entire life. He’s so close that his thighs are quivering as Hannibal deep throats him, his hands grasping Will’s hips as though he’s trying to take Will’s entire body inside of him.

“Hannibal,” Will moans, stilling his attentions by grasping at Hannibal’s hair, tugging him back. “Come back here, please. Please.”

Hannibal pulls away with a tiny regretful noise in the back of his throat, leaning back to tug Will’s underwear off completely and then wiggling to take his off, too. When he resettles between Will’s thighs there’s nothing between them, and Will wraps his legs around Hannibal’s waist as their mouths crash together. Hannibal reaches between them to wrap his fingers around their cocks, jerking them gently as they rock into his fist. 

“I want you inside me,” Hannibal says softly, panting against Will’s open mouth.

“I’m not going to last that long,” Will laughs, and he blushes with the admission.

Hannibal pulls his hand away abruptly, reaching behind himself to work himself open. Will’s mouth falls open as he realizes what Hannibal is doing, and he reaches around him to feel it for himself. “We don’t have lube down here,” he says in a stunned voice. “It’s going to hurt like this, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” Hannibal assures him, moaning as Will slips his index finger inside of him beside Hannibal’s own. “Oh, Will,” he sobs, thrusting gently over their fingers.

Will almost finishes right there, but he grips his cock in a death grip, squeezing himself to the point of pain to prevent it. His heart is racing in his chest as he slips another finger inside of Hannibal, the dry drag of their combined fingers almost sinful. Hannibal pulls his fingers out of his body, removing Will’s from him too, before leaning over Will’s cock and engulfing it inside of his mouth, letting his saliva pool and leak over his erection. He pulls away, pressing Will into the cushions as he straddles Will’s waist, lifting Will’s cock and pressing it against his entrance, settling himself down over it with a roll of his hips.

Will’s spine arches, and he curls his toes into the blankets to keep from coming. If Hannibal starts moving right now, it’ll be over before it starts. The heat and constriction around his cock is too fucking good, and Will stills his hips by gripping them in his palms while he gasps under him. 

Will looks up at him in wonder, the firelight playing off of every sharp edge of his face, and every soft curve of muscle as he flexes over Will’s body. He tremors, trying to distract himself from the absolutely intoxicating view of Hannibal riding his cock, writhing in the firelight.

Will glides his palms over the expanse of his torso, resting one hand on his hip as the other wraps around his cock, jerking him in time with Hannibal’s pace. Hannibal’s face is tipped up, and the sounds coming from him are hedonistic and primal, and it makes Will’s blood sing to hear it.

Will has never seen this side of Hannibal, and now that he has, he’s resolved to see it every day for the rest of his life. He’s beautiful, like this. Wanton and finding his pleasure, using Will’s body to find his release. Will jerks his cock harder, gripping his hip and encouraging him to go faster.

Hannibal arches over him, his hips undulating in a circle, and he knows Hannibal is rolling the head of his cock against his prostate. It’s something Will has done himself.

Hannibal settles his palms behind himself, gripping Will’s thighs as he rides him, and his hips stutter a few times before he’s coming, thick ropes of come spattering over Will’s fingers and his stomach. His muscles clamp down around Will’s cock, and Will bellows out as he thrusts his hips up, burying himself deeply inside as he comes and comes, his eyes clenched shut from the sensory over-load that Hannibal has just given him.

Hannibal collapses against him, pressing wet, soft kisses to his throat, gliding his lips up his jaw to cover Will’s mouth and suck on his tongue. Will grips his ass in his palms, thrusting his cock a few more times inside, and it’s so damned painful to do it, the over-stimulation making his muscles twitch in revolt. The hot slick of his come feels too fucking good to ignore, though, so he thrusts a few more times, and Hannibal pants into his mouth desperately. “Fuck,” Hannibal gasps, baring down with his hips and allowing Will to take what he pleases.

The curse shoots through Will’s gut, igniting him enough to pump a few more times before his cock begins softening. He stills his hips, wishing he were younger so he could keep fucking Hannibal until daylight.

Hannibal doesn’t look like he could take much more, though, and Will laughs under him, pressing kisses to his jaw and his chin. “Mouth, please,” Will says with a chuckle.

Hannibal tips his face towards Will’s mouth exhaustedly, their lips gliding together while they fight off sleep. “I’m sleeping right here,” Hannibal sighs, settling out against Will’s side and effectually letting Will slip from his body. Will wraps them in the edges of one of the ruined comforters, engulfing their bodies in a cocoon. 

Hannibal is wrapped around him like a snake, and Will laughs as he tugs him close, his head resting against Will’s shoulder. “I love you,” Will sighs, pressing kisses to his temple.

“I know,” Hannibal sighs, pressing a kiss to his chest absently. “Just as you know that I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the books, there's a super hot scene with Hannibal and Clarise where he basically licks her nipples with wine. This was my attempt at recreating and maybe enhancing it with some Hannigram. Will deserves nipple play, too, damn it.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are nearing the end here, folks. I have one more chapter for this story, and then an epilogue from someone else's POV. There will also be a one-shot that involves Alana, but I will make that a separate chapter at the end for anyone who does not want to read about that specific thing.
> 
> You've all been so good. Thank you for your kind words and kudos, they're like wood for the fire, if you will. This chapter was difficult for me, for some reason. I almost didn't include Chiyoh, but I love her, and well, that's that.

They wake up the next morning, entangled and sore from sleeping on the floor. They’re grinning at each other sleepily and hungover, even though they’re covered in dried wine, semen, sweat, and saliva. The fire had gone out overnight, and they’re buried in the ruined comforters like wild animals.

Hannibal presses a morning-breath kiss to his mouth, and Will opens for him eagerly, even though he knows his breath is probably terrible, too. Neither one of them got up to brush their teeth before they passed out.

“I need an aspirin,” Hannibal moans, pulling away eventually. 

Will hums, stretching in the blankets and wincing at how sore his back is. “I’m too old for that much wine and sleeping on the floor.”

“You are?” Hannibal laughs, sitting up with a grimace. “I’m older than you, need I remind. It’s late in the morning, and Chiyoh might be here any moment.”

Will sits up, running a hand through his wild curls. “I am fucking hungover, Christ. To think last night, I said I was going running this morning. I guess not.”

“Did you say that?” Hannibal asks, standing gloriously nude in the living room as he stretches. Will bites his lip as he looks up at him.

“I made a promise to myself that I would,” he says distractedly. “I want to start getting into shape again, and instead I got drunk and ate my dinner and half of yours.”

“You ate maybe three slices of avocado, don’t be dramatic,” Hannibal grins, turning to head upstairs. “I’m going to shower, are you coming?”

Will glances down at his wine-stained torso and nods. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

They shower together, and it doesn’t evolve into anything other than cleaning up. They both look worse for wear and are clearly nursing red-wine hangovers. They brush their teeth and get dressed, Will borrowing a pair of black slacks that don’t quite fit as they’re a bit too long, rewearing the green sweater from the night before. Will had barely had it on for an hour before he took it off.

They each take a few aspirin and head downstairs. Hannibal goes to start a pot of coffee while Will gathers the ruined comforters and dirty wine glasses by the fireplace. Will considers throwing the blankets out but decides against it. He’d wash them and put them back in the closet in the off chance that Hannibal ever wants to repeat what they did the night before. No need to ruin more blankets.

Will drags their dirty laundry from the boat over to the washing machine, throwing in enough clothes to make a load. There are probably four loads of wash just in their clothes, and then three more for blankets and bedding. Will’s head throbs as he grimaces at the laundry, gnawing his lip disdainfully.

“Coffee, Will,” Hannibal calls from the kitchen, and Will walks away from the daunting amount of loads he still has to do. 

Will goes into the kitchen, settling into the kitchen island stool with a thankful moan as Hannibal places a fresh cup of coffee into his hand. “Thank you,” he sighs, sipping the delicious Italian roast appreciatively. “Wow, that’s good.”

“Compared to the Mr. Coffee on the boat, it certainly is,” Hannibal agrees while sipping his cup, too. “I enjoyed last night, Will.”

Will grins, swiping a drop of coffee from his lip. “It didn’t hurt you to go without… uh, lubrication?”

“No,” Hannibal chuckles. “I’m no sorer than any other time. I’m more injured from sleeping on the floor.”

“I loved seeing you like that,” Will says without much thought, blushing as he does. “You were more beautiful last night than I’ve ever seen you. For the record, that’s saying something.”

Hannibal comes around the island, leaning into Will’s space for a kiss, which Will responds to eagerly. Their lips are just about to part when the doorbell rings, and they lean away from each other with a sigh. “My dear girl,” Hannibal grins, heading to the door. 

Will gets up too, just in case it isn’t Chiyoh, but someone else. He wouldn’t let Hannibal answer the door to an unknown person by himself. 

It is, in fact, Chiyoh, and when she sees Hannibal, she lunges at him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he tugs her against his chest. “Hannibal,” she says warmly, gripping his blue button down in her hands and holding him close. 

He pulls away after a moment, touching the side of her face reverently. Will’s stomach flips a bit with jealousy, but he does his best to keep it to himself. “My darling girl. We arrived last night and saw that you’ve kept us stocked and ready. Come in, we have some catching up to do. Would you like coffee?”

“I would love it, actually,” she smiles, glancing over to Will and tipping her head. “Will,” she greets him awkwardly.

“Good to see you, Chiyoh,” he manages to say without it sounding completely false. 

She wanders over to him, standing only a few inches away, looking up at him as if deciding something. “I read about what you did to free him,” she says slowly, her eyes searching his face. “Thank you.”

“I assure you, it was a selfish decision,” Will says with a smirk, and it must have been the right thing to say, because she wraps her arms around him gently, holding him awkwardly in her bony arms.

Will is stunned, and his facial expression must say so, because Hannibal is smiling and making a gesture that he should return the hug, so he does so, patting her shoulder awkwardly. “Uh, okay.” He laughs.

“You’re still strange,” she giggles, pulling away from him with a flush to her cheeks. “So very strange.”

“Thank you?” Will laughs. 

They head into the kitchen where Hannibal gets her a coffee, and she takes off her heavy winter coat to reveal her gently rounded stomach. Hannibal freezes when he sees it, his eyes alternating between her face and her stomach in shock. “I’m married, now,” she says by way of explanation. “My husband Paulo is a good man, and he knows about you both. He knows you’re my family. He knows a thing or two about doing anything for family, and he looks forward to meeting the both of you. I thought I would come alone for today, though.”

Will looks to Hannibal to see how he feels about that, and his face is strangely blank. “I look forward to meeting him,” he says eventually. “Do you know if you’re having a boy or a girl, yet?”

“A girl,” she says with a smile. “Don’t give me grief about the coffee, either. My doctor assures me I can have one cup a day, and it’s the only joy I have.”

“I’d never dream of giving you grief,” Hannibal grins. “I suppose I understand why we didn’t run into you before this.”

“I did go to Cuba,” she says quickly. “When I heard that Will got you out of the hospital, I figured with Will’s boat it would be the first place you’d go. Paulo and I booked flights to go as soon as we could, but by the time we got there you were both gone. News spreads more slowly in this part of the world. We didn’t hear about your escape until two weeks after it had happened. When we got there, the news was blowing up about a ghost ship they found a few miles from the marina, full of dead bodies. I assumed it must have been you.”

Hannibal tips his head towards Will, smiling at him affectionately. “Will took care of them. Alana Bloom sent them for me, and Will killed all of them. He’s saved my life twice, now. Three times, depending how you look at it. I owe him everything.”

She turns to Will appreciatively. “Nice to see you’ve finally dug your head out of your ass,” she laughs.

“It took me long enough, didn’t it?” he agrees with a chuckle. He was warming to her, whether he wanted to or not.

“I live three streets over that way,” she points to the left of the window. “About a mile from here. Paulo and I moved here shortly after your lawyer got in touch to tell me just how much money you left me. I can’t ever repay you, Hannibal, but I figured that if the stars ever aligned to get you out, I could at least be close when you did.”

Hannibal places his palm over her hand, “It was nothing. I owe you more than what I’ve given you for wasting so much of your life.”

“I wasted my own life, Hannibal. I lived in a prison of my own making, for a man who did not deserve life. Thank you, Will. Now I see the gift you’ve given me. I hated you for so long for it, but having Paulo… I would never have had him otherwise.”

Will blushes, sipping his coffee with a shrug. “I just wanted you to have a life. Plucking ducks alone in the woods is no life.”

Chiyoh laughs, shaking her head. “It wasn’t. I have some things for the both of you, if you want them?” She reaches into her leather shoulder bag, dragging out some folders for them. “Not sure if you know it or not, but your wife petitioned for divorce after you got Hannibal out. There was a surveillance video of you killing an FBI agent, and she cited abandonment to get it. You’re not married, anymore,” she says simply, handing a few court documents over for Will to see.

Will takes the folder with numb fingers, glancing down at the photocopies. He was divorced. Molly let him go. He’s shocked by it, as he never specifically thought he’d be free of her this way. He could… he could marry Hannibal, now. Assuming Hannibal wanted such a thing. He glances up at Hannibal who is watching him with an unreadable expression, his fingers gripping his coffee cup tightly for a moment before he flicks his eyes away.

Will glances back down, reading the words on the papers over and over, letting them settle into his bones. He was single. Not married. 

Divorced, in fact.

“She divorced me,” he says with a huff. “I guess murdering a few people and absconding with a serial killer gave her reasonable grounds for requesting something like this.”

“She was approved within the week; you see the dates?” She asks, pointing to the request date and the final date. 

“Yeah,” Will says absently, placing the folder on the counter. His face flames when he considers asking Hannibal to marry him in front of Chiyoh, but he decides against it. He’d wait. “Thanks for letting me know.”

She nods, flipping open another folder. “No one has connected the boat full of dead men to either of you. Cuba investigated it and assumed it was drug related. The FBI never caught wind of it.”

“That’s good news,” Will says with a grin, glancing to Hannibal who is decidedly not smiling. Will frowns at him, and Hannibal turns to pour himself another coffee. 

“This one might be upsetting to hear,” she says while pulling another folder out. “Bedelia Du Maurier is writing a book about the two of you. Something along the lines of how Hannibal manipulated you into being with him. It’s going to be about Hannibal’s grip on your mind, and how he’s tricked you into becoming a monster.”

Will tears the folder from the counter, his mouth pursed as he reads the article she wrote. “This God damned bitch,” he spits gripping the folder in his fist as he reads it. “Mr. Graham’s mental illness created the perfect environment for Hannibal’s dark influence to grow and fester. He reached into the fathoms of his mind and molded a monster; one darker and more terrible than even Hannibal himself could have predicted.” He reads, spitting the words out acidly. “This fucking…” he drifts off, glancing up with an angry blush. “Sorry.”

Chiyoh sighs. “I knew you’d be upset. I don’t know what the two of you could possibly do about it, but I figured you should at least know.”

Hannibal’s eyes are watching Will as he glances up, tossing the folder to the counter. “I want her, Hannibal. Her and Alana have a dinner date with us, coming soon.”

“If that’s what you want,” he says coolly, and Will doesn’t understand what the fuck is wrong, but he decides he’ll ask later.

“I’ve also kept an eye on things in Baltimore and should tell you that they’re looking into Europe as a possible place you’d go. So far, though, they’ve found nothing. This many months in, it’s not likely that they will, either.”

“They won’t find us here,” Hannibal assures her. “All the homes I intentionally left half-uncovered were found, and they’re certain they’ve stripped me of all my financial assets. They don’t know about anything more than I’ve given them, and it’s been three years.”

“You’ve always been good at covering your tracks,” she says approvingly, sipping her coffee. “I am so glad you’re alright, Hannibal. When I heard you had almost died, I was devastated. I wanted to go to the hospital myself, but I couldn’t. I had just learned about Mischa,” she says, rubbing her stomach as Hannibal puts his cup down roughly, his face portraying emotion for the first time since Chiyoh first arrived.

“Mischa,” he repeats in a broken voice, and she nods while swiping a tear from her eye.

“I wasn’t sure if you would be offended, but I loved her, Hannibal. I wanted to honor her.”

Hannibal wraps his arms around her, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I am honored, and Mischa would be, as well. Keep her safe. I am glad you did not come to me, guns blazing.”

“You did not need me, after all. Not with your nakama seeking all the vengeance that I could not.”

Will smiles weakly at that, his eyes still looking towards her stomach as he considered the weight of what she was giving to Hannibal by naming her daughter after his sister. It was more than Will could ever give him. It was more meaningful than anything Will had to offer. He swallowed tightly, sipping his coffee to hide his face.

“I should be going. If you need anything at all, I don’t mind helping you when I can,” she says as she gathers her bag, feeling something inside of it. “Oh! There’s one more thing,” she says as she pulls a box out, putting an iPad on the counter. “There’s Wi-Fi here, I set it up for you a few months ago. Now you have a way to keep in touch with the outside world.”

“You’re wonderful,” Hannibal says meaningfully. She takes his hand and places it on her stomach carefully, letting him feel the life inside. “Mischa,” he says as he looks down. “I look forward to meeting you, little one.”

She smiles as she steps away. “Will, I’ll see you soon?” 

“Yeah,” he says, clearing his throat. “Thank you for everything. Really.”

She nods as she pulls her coat on, heading towards the door. “Maybe next week we could have dinner? My cell phone number is written on one of those folders, as well as my house line. Just call me.”

“I would love that, Chiyoh,” Hannibal grins. “Next week. Take care, dear girl.”

She nods again as she leaves the house, and the silence after she goes is deafening. “Was something wrong, earlier?” Will asks, breaking the silence.

“Nothing is wrong. Perhaps I should ask you the same question? You looked like you were about to be sick when you realized you were divorced. Is the news upsetting to you, beloved? Do you regret losing your miserable wife, and the fabricated life that you built with her?” His words are pouring out of him with such venom that Will’s mouth falls open.

“What? No! It wasn’t that at all,” he says, but Hannibal cuts him off.

“Was it seeing Chiyoh pregnant that made you wistful of the things you could never have with me? Your desire to be a father would have been easier with Molly, would it not? It’s not too late for you to find some other warm, soft, woman and plant your seed in her, if that’s what you want.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Will warns him, holding a hand up to stop his mouth. “It’s none of that, and you can stop talking before you say anything else that’ll hurt me more than you are right now. I am divorced. I am single. I was stunned by it because I never thought it would happen. The first fucking thought I had was that I could marry you, you idiot. I looked up at you because it’s not an impossibility for us anymore.”

“You want to marry me?” Hannibal says disbelievingly. 

“Of course, I do!” Will bellows out, slamming his coffee cup to the counter. “I wasn’t looking at her womb and imagining all the things I had given up. I was looking at her and thinking about how I can’t give you anything even remotely as meaningful as what she is giving you. I want to give you the world, Hannibal. I want to marry you and make you so happy that you don’t look at anyone else, and now that’s not happening, is it?”

Hannibal looks contrite for a moment, twirling his coffee cup against the counter. “You’re upset because you believe I’ll love Chiyoh’s child more than you, all because she carries my sister’s name?”

“When you put it that way, I sound fucking crazy. So, no. That’s not it,” Will lies, shaking his head as he looks away.

“You’ve given me the world, Will. You’ve given me at least three chances at life, now. You’re all I see, you’re all I want. I want to marry you, too.”

“Are we fighting while we’re proposing to one another?” Will asks with a disbelieving laugh. 

“It’s not my fault that you told me you wanted to marry me in such an unromantic way,” Hannibal argues. “You told me you wanted to marry me and called me an idiot in the same breath.”

“Fuck,” Will sighs, rubbing his jaw as he blushes. “Okay, wait, I can do better.”

He comes around the kitchen island, kneeling on one knee as Hannibal arches an unimpressed eyebrow down at him. “Hannibal,” he says slowly. “I’ve waited my entire life for you without even knowing it. You’re everything to me. You’re all I want. I love you more than anything in this entire world, and I want to spend the rest of my life tied to you in every way that I can be. I want to call you my husband. I want to wear matching rings. If I could bind myself to you in other ways, I would do that, too. All I can give you is myself, and my promise that I’ll love you in this world and the next. Marry me, please. Marry me and be my husband. I want to take your name because you’re all the family I’ve ever really had.”

Hannibal’s expression changes as Will is talking, sliding from unimpressed, to disbelieving, to something else entirely. Will couldn’t place it, but it almost looks… sad, in a way. Tears were gathered in his eyes, and Will was starting to feel silly with how much time was drifting by without him making even a noise. 

“I should have waited,” Will sighs, standing up and rubbing his knee absently. “It should have been romantic and better than that. Just forget it, please.”

Hannibal grasps his arm, taking in a shaking breath. “You want my last name?” 

Will nods, shrugging his shoulders. “A last name indicates your connection to family. You are my family, Hannibal.”

“Then I want to give that to you,” he says softly, swallowing thickly as he pulls Will against him. “Yes, Will. I’ll marry you.”

Will grins slowly, biting his lip as he looks up at Hannibal. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Hannibal chuckles, dragging his mouth up to his for a kiss. Will grips his face in his palms deepening it with a sigh. Hannibal pulls away eventually, pressing kisses to Will’s cheek, then his jaw. “I want to give you Bedelia, too. She’s unfortunately worn out her good graces with me. I think she’s forgotten how I can be, and I’d like to remind her.”

“I’d like her to regret it, so she won’t be dead when we’re done with her, Hannibal. We’re going to take something from her. I want her leg or her arm. I want her to be miserable for the rest of her life because of us.”

“Vindictive thing,” he says with a laugh. “I can make that happen, though. If that’s what you want.”

“I want Alana too, but we need to wait for her. She’ll be armed and guarded for a while. We’d have to wait for her to relax. I promised her that you wouldn’t touch her, so I will kill her, Hannibal. She’ll be a gift to you, from me.”

“I’ll give you Bedelia now, and you can give me Alana, later,” Hannibal says with a smirk, leaning forward to kiss him again. “And you think you have nothing to offer me. You give me the gift of your presence in my life every day. What more would I want?”

Will hums in agreement, wrapping his arms around Hannibal’s narrow waist. “We’re engaged. Jesus, I never thought that would happen.”

“My fiancé,” Hannibal tries out, and Will laughs against his chest.

“Mr. Lecter,” Will muses, and Hannibal grips him tighter to himself, pressing a kiss to his temple. 

“William Lecter,” Hannibal says, and Will can hear the smile in his voice as he says it. “Hannibal Graham?” he asks with a laugh.

“No, oh God that’s horrible,” Will chuckles, growing somber against Hannibal’s chest. “There’s been two Graham families torn apart now. My parents and Molly and me. I have no interest in repeating history with you. I want your name, Hannibal.”

“Anything, Will,” Hannibal says softly while gliding his fingers through his curls.

They settle into their lives beautifully, and over the course of the next two months, Hannibal arranges an ordained minister, who he’s paid a wild amount of money to for discretion as well as an immediate marriage certificate, to meet them at their desired location. 

Hannibal and Will take their boat to the location, the both of them running through the damp streets in the dark, tugging on their suit jackets as they laugh. The guy is standing in front of the church doors, and he looks incredibly nervous. “Listen, I know I said twenty-five, but that was before I realized we were breaking into a church. Like, this is not legal, and it’s dangerous,” 

Hannibal cuts him off with a menacing step forward. “Should I remind you of the types of illegal activities that my fiancé and I get into? I’ll make it thirty-five thousand if you shut your mouth and refrain from ruining this for us. You will not like what I do to you if you ruin this for us.”

“Thirty-five is great,” the guy says nervously. “Sure, yeah.”

Hannibal snaps the lock on the church with bolt cutters, and they head into the darkened foyer of the Norman chapel. Hannibal lights some candles, lighting the room in a soft glow as they stand over the memento mori skeleton on the floor. 

Hannibal is beaming at him as he recites the quick vows, and Will leans up in the middle of it to kiss him, the both of them laughing as the ordained minister sighs, pausing while they kiss. 

It goes by in a blur, and Will hardly remembers what the generic vows were, but Hannibal is sliding a gleaming platinum band on his finger, and then Will is doing the same, his hand cupping Hannibal’s palm as he glides the ring up the longest, most elegant finger he’s ever seen.

It’s done before they even realize it, and Hannibal is crushing him to his mouth, and Will can taste Hannibal’s tears on his tongue as they grip their expensive suits and devour each other in front of some random idiot who shouldn’t have the privilege of seeing them this way.

They both pull away to sign the certificate, and the guy congratulates them. “This copy is yours,” he says quickly, handing them the certificate. 

Despite how clinical the vows were, and how informal the ceremony was, it’s still the happiest Will has ever been. The guy leaves quickly, taking his wad of cash with him, and Hannibal and Will keep kissing in the chapel, the wet sounds of their kisses echoing through its walls. “We should go, just in case he ends up squealing on us,” Will sighs.

“Yes,” Hannibal says eventually, still gripping Will’s body tight against his own. They spare a glance around at their surroundings, taking it in and filing it away so they can recall this moment when they want to.

“You gave me your heart here,” Will recalls, pressing his lips to Hannibal’s cheek. 

“And now you’ve taken my name here,” Hannibal says, and the emotion in his voice is unchecked as he brings his mouth back down to Will’s, kissing him until they’re gasping for breath. 

“Let’s get to the boat, please. I’ll get us out of the marina and then I’m having you. My husband,” he sighs, while Hannibal nips down his jawline. 

Hannibal takes him by the wrist as they run out of the church, each of them jogging through the empty streets and laughing as they head back to the marina. 

They’re gasping for air as they climb back into the boat, each of them set to different tasks that get them out on the water more quickly. Once they’re out of the marina, Will drops anchor while Hannibal ties down the sails, and then they’re on each other. 

They’re tearing off clothing while their mouths clash, kicking off shoes while their hand wander and grasp. “Below deck?” Will gasps as Hannibal sucks a nipple into his mouth, tugging it with his teeth. “Or here under the stars?”

“Below deck,” Hannibal says between harsh, suckling, kisses to his abdomen while he jerks Will’s cock slowly. “I want to be out here, but we are going to need the bed for what I have planned for you.”

“What you have planned for me?” Will asks with a laugh. “Should I be worried?”

“You should be curious,” Hannibal says, nipping his way back up Will’s body, flicking his tongue out at a nipple that’s stiffened in the cool air. “Not worried. You’ve asked me for this.”

Will thinks on that as they head below deck naked as a couple of Jay birds. He settles out on the flimsy mattress, clicking on a lamp so he can see Hannibal. So he can see his husband. The thought makes him dizzy as he watches Hannibal crawl up his body, trailing wet kisses as he gets closer to his mouth. “I asked you for what?”

“To make you come until you can’t,” Hannibal reminds him, and Will’s cock throbs with the reminder.

“Fuck,” Will moans, grasping his face between his palms and kissing him deeply. “Okay,” he breathes as he pulls away. “Safe word, then. If I say teacup, you stop.”

Hannibal grins against the side of his mouth, “Teacup it is, then. I have no intention of shattering you, Will.”

“God I fucking want to be shattered,” Will breathes as Hannibal trails kisses down his chest, nipping gently at his abdominal muscles. Velvet heat envelopes his cock, and a soft tongue is flicking against the head, and Will moans into the cabin, spreading his thighs widely to make room for Hannibal. 

Hannibal eases between his thighs, taking him so deeply into his throat that Will thrusts mindlessly, touching the underneath of his chin and feeling himself there, pressing deep inside. Hannibal moans around him, pulling away with a wet noise, and lifts the back of Will’s knees, folding him in half before his mouth trails lower, suckling against his hole.

Will feels weirdly exposed in this position, but he can’t complain because Hannibal’s tongue delving inside of him feels too god damned good. All of him is out on display, and Hannibal alternates between courses, tonguing his hole, sucking a testicle into his mouth, and deep throating him occasionally as he sees fit. Eventually, Will is holding his own legs against his chest to make it easier for Hannibal to pick and choose what he wants to do, and Will’s moans are echoing through the cabin wantonly.

When Hannibal sinks his tongue back into his entrance, Will feels like he’s about to come. It’s all too much, and Hannibal is so fucking good at all of it that he’s embarrassed to be this close already. 

Hannibal sinks a finger inside of him, stretching him open while he sinks back over his cock, bobbing in time with his probing finger that is absolutely drenched in saliva. Another finger is worked inside of him, and his prostate is being brushed while his cock is buried deep inside Hannibal’s throat. Will grasps his hair desperately, pressing his face down and fucking into his mouth with a high moan, and then he’s coming. Hannibal lets him jerk into his mouth, emptying himself down his throat, and Hannibal keeps sucking him even though he finished already.

Will almost considers saying ‘teacup’, as the feeling is so fucking intense. He hears a cap, and suddenly the fingers that are stretching him open are slippery and wet, another finger joining and stretching him further while stroking determinedly at his prostate.

The intense, uncomfortable feeling begins to pass, and Will realizes that he’s hard again. He’s shocked by it, by the intensity of the pleasure and the electric current that passes between them. Hannibal pulls away from his cock with reddened, swollen, lips, glancing up at Will with a filthy little smirk. “Do you see what I do to you, beloved? My husband,” he breathes, licking gently at the head of Will’s cock with disheveled hair and a flushed face. He looks so god damned beautiful that Will aches just looking at him, his fingers buried inside of Will to the knuckles.

“What would you like, Will?” he asks, looking up at him through pale lashes while sucking the vein at the underside of Will’s cock.

“I want to ride you,” Will says immediately, and Hannibal chuckles.

“I want that, too,” Hannibal admits, stroking against Will’s prostate relentlessly while Will’s cock leaks against his abdomen. Hannibal notices it and leans forward to clean the skin with his tongue, and Will sobs at the sight of it.

Hannibal eases his fingers out of Will’s loosened body, crawling up his chest to tug at his nipples with his teeth, and lays out flat on his back. Will throws a leg over his waist, sliding over his body and taking Hannibal’s neglected cock in his hand to work a bit of lube over it before pressing it against his entrance and sinking down over it. 

He rolls his hips in a circle, easing Hannibal deep inside of him while his husband grips his hips, moaning as more and more of him is taken inside. Will sighs when he feels Hannibal’s balls pressed against his ass, and he flexes his muscles, clamping them tight around Hannibal’s cock. The high, keening, moan he tears from Hannibal’s throat makes Will laugh breathlessly, and he rolls his hips, dragging that lovely cock against his prostate.

He braces his hands behind him on Hannibal’s thighs, lifting and dropping himself wantonly on his cock, slamming against his prostate on every downstroke. Hannibal brings his knees up, bracing his back and getting the leverage he needs to thrust up on every downstroke, and Will arches into it, his head thrown back at the raw intensity of the pleasure he’s finding. “Fuck,” Will cries out as he pulls up to the head of Hannibal’s cock, dropping himself back down abruptly. The sharp stab of pleasure it gives him makes him do it again, and then again.

Hannibal is moaning under him, his hands grasping Will’s ass and spreading him wide open. They’re both so sweaty that everything feels slippery and hot, and Will tugs harshly at his chest hair, reaching to tug a nipple roughly and roll it in his fingers.

Will slams back down over him, rolling his hips and pressing down so the head of his cock just rolls across the bundle of nerves inside of him, and his shakes with the pleasure of it, moaning through it.

Hannibal sits up abruptly, tugging Will’s face to his and sinking his fingers into Will’s s damp curls, thrusting his tongue into his mouth and suckling Will’s tongue. Will tips his head and deepens the kiss while rolling his hips, Hannibal’s other hand still grasping his ass and pulling him tighter against his body.

When Hannibal finally takes his cock in his hand, it only takes a few jerks and he’s coming between their bodies, moaning into the cavern of his mouth. Hannibal turns their bodies, rolling Will onto his back as he settles between his thighs, their mouths barely separating for a moment before Hannibal sits back, tugging Will’s hips towards him and settling Will’s ass against the front of his thighs, and then Hannibal is snapping his hips.

Will arches off the bed, screaming into the cabin as Hannibal pulverizes his prostate. His pace is maddening, and Will can’t find a reprieve from it. Hannibal takes his legs and settles them over his shoulders, folding him in half while his cock slams into him. “You can say ‘teacup’,” Hannibal reminds him breathlessly, sweat pouring down his forehead as he continues drilling into him.

“No,” Will moans out, and Hannibal laughs, the sound stuttering out with each flex of his hips. 

Hannibal sits up again, gripping Will’s hips as he thrusts harder and more purposefully, his pace stuttering as he comes inside of Will, moaning as he empties himself deep inside Will’s body. He gasps as he regains his bearings, before sliding out of Will and replacing his cock with his fingers. 

He finds the spot inside of Will easily, stroking it with three fingers while Will quivers under him, his whole-body quaking from the over-stimulation he’s getting. His cock is limp on his stomach, but it’s leaking all over him, and he feels like he’s on the verge of something huge through the tormented pain and pleasure of it.

“Hannibal,” he moans, lifting his legs and spreading himself wider, encouraging Hannibal to do as he pleases. Hannibal licks the sweat that’s dripped down his cheekbone to his lips, looking up at him with an arched eyebrow. Hannibal reaches his fingers out, dragging them through the spend that his cock is leaking onto his own stomach, and brings the covered fingers to Will's mouth. Will moans, opening his mouth eagerly to suck his fingers clean, licking the taste of himself off the pads of Hannibal's fingers. 

“You’ll be the death of me yet,” he tells Will with a laugh, leaning forward to suck his limp cock into his mouth. Will breaks apart at the feel of it, his leaking cock coming back to life under the skilled attention of Hannibal’s mouth. It takes longer than it should, but eventually he’s almost hard again, but it’s so fucking painful that Will realizes he’s crying.

Hannibal reaches between their bodies, the hand that isn’t deep inside of Will jerking himself back to arousal. It’s barely a few minutes later, and Hannibal is taking his fingers out and pressing his cock back in, sliding in so easily from the spend already inside of him.

Hannibal adjusts himself on his knees, thrusting his cock back in gently, stroking his prostate expertly while his semi-hard cock continues to leak on his abdomen. “Is this what you wanted, Will?”

Will’s body is convulsing from the intensity of it, a sharp, aching pressure building up as Hannibal pumps into him. Will nods, looking up at Hannibal through tear-damp lashes, his mouth parted and red from chewing his own lips. “I want you, Hannibal. Fuck, you feel good. You feel so fucking good,” he cries out.

Hannibal grins as he looks down at him, running his fingers through the sweat on his stomach and his chest. “I want to tear you open, Will. I want to devour you alive,” he warns him, thrusting deeper and harder with the confession. “I love you,” he pants as he drives himself deeper. “Oh, Will, I love you.”

Will gasps as he realizes the feeling he’s feeling right now feels like something very specific, and he’s about to ruin the mood entirely. “Wait,” he gasps. “Fuck, hold on,” Will pleads, but Hannibal pays him no mind. It’s not the safe word. “I feel like I’m going to piss. Fuck, wait.”

‘You aren’t,” Hannibal assures him as he keeps fucking into him. “It’s over-stimulation, and it’ll pass. Give it a minute,” he says as he keeps thrusting.

Will sobs through it, covering his face in shame as he’s certain he’s about to piss the bed. He doesn’t though. Hannibal works him through it, and it evolves into a deeper ache. A harder pleasure.

Hannibal reaches for his cock and strokes him through it, and Will claws at his hips, gripping them hard enough to leave marks. His pace becomes punishing, his prostate being drilled so brutally that Will moans and cries through it.

“Come, Will. Come for me,” Hannibal begs him as his own hips stutter through the need for his own release. Will doesn’t think he can come. It’s too fucking much.

Will wraps his legs around his waist, urging Hannibal to go deeper and roll his hips, which he does beautifully. The long, rolling pressure against his prostate is exactly what he needs, and he’s coming. It feels like it’s being ripped from him, and sound he makes as he does is tortured. Hannibal follows close behind him, pumping into his body for the second time as Will’s fluttering and clenching muscles milk him dry. Hannibal looks like he’s about to pass out, but he withdraws from Will’s body carefully and presses his fingers back inside, and Will flinches, “Teacup!” Will cries out. “Oh, fuck, fucking teacup!”

Hannibal laughs, withdrawing his fingers carefully and collapsing to the bed. They are both boneless, sweating, messes, and they share an exhausted laugh. “Fucking teacup,” Hannibal repeats, vibrating the bed with his laughter.

Will laughs with him, rolling onto his side to lick the sweat from Hannibal’s chest. “That was so fucking good. Christ,” Will sighs, trailing his tongue further up to collect the salty taste of Hannibal’s skin at his neck.

“I am not as young as you are, nor as young as I used to be,” Hannibal says with an arched eyebrow. “You will kill me if we keep up like this.”

“I was just about to ask you if you want to go again,” Will teases. Hannibal flinches like Will slapped him, and Will laughs. “Kidding.”

“I was momentarily worried,” Hannibal chuckles, rubbing sweat damp hair from his forehead. “I need a shower, but I’ll let you go first. You probably need it more than I do.”

Will looks down at his semen and sweat covered body, groaning as he considers the idea of standing up. “In a minute,” he pleads. “You go first. I can’t move yet.”

Hannibal leans over him and kisses him gently, letting their lips just barely glide against one another before he pulls away. “I’ll be right back, then.”

Will appreciates the view he gets as Hannibal heads to the bathroom, naked and glistening with sweat. He looks like a God right now, muscles and golden skin catching the low light of the room. Before he closes the bathroom door, Will makes a noise in his throat that catches Hannibal’s attention. “You look like an immortal, right now,” he says, and blushes as he says it. “Golden and beautiful.”

“Flesh and blood,” he replies, smiling softly as he looks at Will’s spent body. “All of it is yours, Will.”

“Mine,” Will agrees, smiling tiredly as Hannibal licks his lips. 

He nods off as Hannibal is in the shower, waking up when Hannibal tells him the bathroom is his. He smells so damned good, and Will groans as he rolls from the bed.

He showers in cool water, his skin still over-heated from the intensity of their lovemaking. He snorts as he thinks it because it’s hardly anyone’s definition of tender lovemaking. That’s exactly what it was, though. He touches his entrance gently, cleansing it with soap as he winces. Too much attention for one day, apparently.

Once he’s clean and dry, he emerges from the bathroom to find Hannibal has changed the sheets and settled himself into them, sprawled and exquisitely naked still.

Will grins as he settles into them naked, too, gliding across the bed to settle himself against Hannibal’s side. “Hi,” he grins, leaning forward to collect a kiss.

Hannibal smiles gently, his face lax as though he was about to fall asleep, but he kisses him eagerly. “Hi,” he laughs.

“Will Lecter,” Will says conversationally, and Hannibal pulls him tighter against his body, pressing a kiss to his damp hair and scenting him with his nose. 

“You’re my family, now,” Hannibal says softly. “You’ve always been my family, but now you have my name.”

“You’re my best friend. My lover. My husband. My family,” Will muses. “You’ve really worked your way into my life, huh?”

“If I think of more ways to bind you to myself, I’ll let you know,” Hannibal chuckles.

“We could exchange kidneys,” Will says with a chuckle.

“We can’t, we’re not a match,” Hannibal replies too quickly.

Will sits up, a frown on his face. “Why do you know that? I was kidding.”

“Your blood-type is A-negative, and I am O-positive. We can’t exchange blood or organs between us.”

Will settles back down against his chest, still frowning. “Well that sucks.”

“Not compatible that way,” Hannibal chuckles. “Will, I only know it because of the hospital. I’m not insane.”

Will sighs, pressing a kiss to his chest. “I was only kind of kidding. I’m a little upset that our blood can’t combine.”

“Strange man,” Hannibal laughs. “I love you so dearly.”

“And I love you, husband of mine.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! This is the last chapter before an epilogue. This chapter contains a graphic depiction of murder, performed by our beloved Chesapeake Ripper. It's not a pleasant thing, but I felt it was necessary for Will to see, as he's never seen that side of Hannibal, really. Just a fair warning.
> 
> You have all been so kind. Thanks for taking this murder husband journey with me. This has been a blast to write. 
> 
> Epilogue coming soon, and then a pretty graphic one-shot. Let me know what you think. <3

Their summer goes by quickly and contentedly. Chiyoh has the baby now, and Paulo and Mischa join Will and Hannibal for dinner once a week. Will thought he would resent the company, but he doesn’t. It’s almost blissful spending time with people who know who he is, what he’s capable of, and yet still accept him.

Paulo is a wonderful man. He grew up in a family that had ties to the mafia, so he knows a thing or two about keeping quiet about family proclivities. Will doesn’t know him well, but he’s so good with Chiyoh, and even better with their daughter. He’s got a sense of humor, and he’s so damned polite. Hannibal actually likes him, and Will thought for sure that no matter what the guy did, he’d never earn Hannibal’s appreciation. He’s a quiet man, very internal, but not opposed to friendship. Will understands that, as he feels like that’s who he is, too. It doesn’t surprise him at all that they get along well.

They went to Bedelia in July, and it was with Paulo’s help. He got them all the passports they’d need, as well as plane tickets and train tickets. He’s very thorough, and Will was certain the care that he took for them in the endeavor is why Hannibal likes him, now.

They break into her home with frightening ease. Will recalls the ease with which the scalpel cuts into her milk-white flesh, the feel of Hannibal pressed behind his back. He can still feel the hot breath ghosting across the shell of his ear as Hannibal gave him words of encouragement and direction. He looks down at his arms, noting they’re raised in goosebumps. It happens every time he thinks about it.

Hannibal roasts her leg beautifully, and sets the table almost exactly the way he used to back in his home in Baltimore. Will remembers being at a loss for words when he sees it, feeling like they’ve both somehow gone back in time.

She refuses to eat her own flesh, but that’s fine with Will. She watches them eat her instead, all while spitting insults and hurling acidic words. Some sting, some don’t. She tries to cause a rift by bringing up Molly, and Hannibal raises his left hand to reach for his glass instead of his right, allowing his platinum band to gleam and glint in the candlelight. Her wretched mouth stops moving when she sees it, and she turns her head to look at Will, who intentionally reaches for his own wine glass with his left hand. Her face as she looks between them will be a memory that Will treasures in his mind palace until the day he dies. 

Will did not plan to kill her. Really, he didn’t. She wouldn’t shut her fucking mouth, and she kept trying to stir shit, and Will decides he’s had enough. He turns to Hannibal at one point, telling him the meat was delicious. Her venomous laugh gets his attention, and she glares at him while she says, “Hannibal always liked the _taste_ of me on his tongue.”

It was a lie, and Will knew it. It doesn’t stop him from taking the knife from the roast and jamming it into her throat. Will watches her gag and scramble to save herself with a detached disinterest, turning to Hannibal with a firm set to his mouth. “She was lying. Wasn’t she?”

“I’ve kissed her,” Hannibal says slowly, glancing at Bedelia who has either died or was about to. “She and I were never more, Will. I told you that, and I was not lying to you.”

Will cleans the blood from his hands with a napkin, licking his lips as he glances up at Hannibal. “Are you angry?”

Hannibal clears his throat, lifting his fork back to his mouth and savoring the bite of tender meat. “No, I told you that you could do as you pleased. Are you pleased, Will?”

Will glances at her corpse, watching the slow trickle of blood from her wound. “Yes,” he says eventually. “I wanted her to suffer more than this, but yeah. I don’t regret it.”

Will snaps back from his recollection, smoothing his crisp, navy blazer on over his satiny gray button down. The night with Bedelia had been a month ago, and they hadn’t expressed an interest in finding someone else, yet. 

Will tugs his black leather belt through the loops of his navy fitted slacks, wondering why Hannibal had been so… tame. Will knows he’s not killing anyone. He knows it because they’ve barely spent more than an hour apart, and he knows it because Hannibal would tell him. Hannibal has told him that he doesn’t feel the urges that normal psychopaths tend to feel, but it makes Will wonder if he at least… thinks about it. 

There’s been a few rude people that have come into their new life in France. Their butcher stands out the most in Will’s mind. The stern man could cut any cut of meat you want, but he was irritable, and he snaps at Hannibal when he asks questions. He can feel the tension radiating off Hannibal for the rudeness, but it never evolves into anything. It never even becomes a conversation.

Will pulls on his black dress shoes, sliding them onto his feet, and then regards himself in the mirror. He looks… good. He tries to tame his wild curls, which were longer now than they’d ever been. They brush the collar of his dress suit, and he doesn’t care for it much. He's shaved his face clean for tonight, and with the scar cream that Hannibal bought him for his cheek, it’s only the faintest silvery line on his face. It’s noticeable when he smiles, but not otherwise. 

He glances over at Hannibal, who is standing in front of his closet. He looks so good in his charcoal suit and burgundy button-down that Will considers asking if he can rip it off of him with his teeth. He didn’t, though, because he knew what tonight meant to Hannibal. It’s the first real soiree that he’d expressed an interest in attending since they’d gotten here. It’s a fundraiser for the art museum, something to raise money in order to fix and maintain the priceless artwork that Hannibal loves so much. Hannibal has been looking forward to tonight, telling Will that he wants to show him off and spend the night dancing in his arms. Will knows he also wants to meet people and integrate himself into the social circle of upper crust yahoos here. It makes Will nervous, but he trusts Hannibal’s judgement.

They cannot go as themselves, obviously. They are Hans and Wilhelm Levensen. Hans is a fine art curator, and Wilhelm is, much to Will’s dismay, a kept man. None of Will’s degrees or hobbies can be used to create a second life. So, Will was deigned to be arm candy. It did not bother him as much as he likes to tease Hannibal about it, but it did chafe.

“You’re very quiet,” Hannibal notes while coming to Will’s side and tying a floral printed tie around his neck, one with red and gray flowers printed on the silk. The suit he is wearing fits him like a glove, and the cut accentuates the narrowness of his waist and the broadness of his shoulders in a way that makes Will’s mouth go dry. 

“I don’t do well with people. Never mind a group of people that I don’t know,” Will replies, gnawing on his lip as he tugs the tight material of his blazer over his abdomen. He’s been working out more, and the suit that Hannibal picked out for him highlights his trimmer form in a way that makes Will self-conscious.

“It’s just you and I,” Hannibal tells him, standing close behind him to scent at the nape of his neck. He feels Hannibal’s nose work through the curls there, his eyes closed in their reflection as he breathes Will in. “I just want to spend a night with you outside the house. It’s nothing more complicated than that. When you’re done, we’re done. We can come home whenever you like.”

They take the Aston Martin to the gala, and Will feels like someone else as Hannibal pulls up to the valet. Hannibal takes his arm into the crook of his elbow as they walk into the enormous, elegant, hall. It’s a beautiful building; all gold accents and cream walls, ornate flooring, and heavy velvet drapes. The lighting is dim as they head into the dining area to find their table as the band plays demure music in the background. Will can feel people’s eyes on them, trying to figure out who they are and why they’re here. It makes him nervous, and he fidgets enough that Hannibal stills his fingers with his own as they settle into their seats. 

Will stays mostly quiet when various rich people come to introduce themselves, each of them taking Will and Hannibal apart with their eyes and the sets of their mouths. Hannibal is polite as ever, positively charming, in fact, and Will forces himself to smile pleasantly with each interaction until they both go to the bar to get a drink. Will orders a whiskey and Hannibal gets a glass of chianti, and they sip it while Hannibal looks out over the crowd and Will looks only at Hannibal. “You know these people are kiss asses, don’t you?”

Hannibal grins as he sips his wine, “I do know it, yes.”

“They’re smiling to our faces while dissecting us behind our backs.”

“I’ve no doubt,” Hannibal licks his lips, stepping into Will’s space to press a kiss to his temple. “As I’ve said, I want to spend time with you. That’s all this is, Will.”

Will takes a deep breath and lets it out. He wants Hannibal to enjoy this, and in order for that to happen, Will needs to relax. “You look gorgeous, by the way.”

Hannibal smirks as he sips his wine, turning towards Will so that there’s barely any space between them. “I almost suggested we stay home after I saw you. The color of your suit makes your eyes look like sapphires. You’re more beautiful than I deserve.”

“It’s funny you should say that,” Will says softly, leaning into Hannibal’s space so he can nose at his jaw. “When I looked up at you and saw you in this suit, I considered asking if I could shred it off of you with my teeth.”

The dry swallow from Hannibal in response makes Will smile his first, genuine, smile of the entire night, and he leans forward to press a kiss to Hannibal’s cheekbone. A man approaches them, and Will steps away with a sigh. 

“Good evening,” the man greets them, extending a hand with a perfectly manicured set of fingers to Hannibal first. “Tristan Reins.”

Hannibal takes his hand cordially, “Hans Levensen,” he greets, smiling politely. “This is my husband, Wilhelm.”

“Will,” he amends, as Tristan reaches for Will’s hand to shake it. 

“Nice to meet you both,” he says, eying Will for a minute before turning back towards Hannibal. “I am the curator for the art gallery, and Mrs. Beaulieu told me that you’re a curator, as well. I’ve never heard of you, so I wanted to come and introduce myself.”

“We’ve only recently moved to France,” Hannibal admits with a polite shrug. “Curating for me has always been more of a passion than a career, I’m afraid.”

Tristan’s eyes are on Will again, sliding greasily over his face and his body as he licks his lips. “Collecting beautiful things should be a _passion_ ,” he says eventually. Will feels Hannibal’s tension rising at the blatantly suggestive comment, and Will takes a minute to really notice the man. He’s got a fake tan, or a real one. Will could never differentiate between the two. He’s younger than Will is, maybe by a few years. He’s also what most people would probably consider attractive. He’s dark haired with bright blue eyes, and the cut of his jaw is not unattractive. He’s in good shape, and Will realizes that no one says no to him when he wants them.

Will might be the first. “My husband is very passionate when he finds something he wants,” Will says, glancing up at Hannibal and allowing every genuine feeling he has for him show on his face. “We’ve been married for ten years, and his passion has never waned in any aspect of his life.”

“Lucky for you both,” Tristan says icily, turning away from Will. “I look forward to working with you in the future, Mr. Levensen,” he says to Hannibal eventually. 

“Perhaps,” Hannibal replies evenly, his hand placed possessively on the small of Will’s back.

Will turns to Hannibal with a huff of annoyance when Tristan walks away. “What a douche.”

“Yes,” Hannibal agrees, tipping Will’s face up for a kiss. “Shall we go to our table? It’s nearly dinner.”

They sit at a table with an older widow, Mrs. Beaulieu, Will learns. She’s taken an interest in Hannibal, and it makes Will blush to realize that she is absolutely smitten with him. Hannibal is very polite to her, charming her with his smiles and gentle flirtations, and Will finds he’s actually having a nice time talking with her. 

She asks questions about how they met, and they don’t lie when they say that they worked together, long ago. They don’t lie when they tell her that they’ve loved each other for a very, very, long time.

“My husband and I used to be like the two of you,” she says in a thick, French accent. “Our hands always found each other. I miss him always.”

After the endless courses of dinner, the floor is cleared for dancing, and Will leans into Hannibal’s space. “Dance with me?”

Hannibal smiles, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Of course. Forgive me, Mrs. Beaulieu, but my husband requests a dance.”

“Handsome man,” she replies. “How can you refuse him?”

Hannibal stands, taking Will’s hand in his, “I never do.”

The other people on the floor are dancing actual dances, but Will isn’t sure what they are. It could be waltzing, or it could be a tango. Will has no idea. He only knows that he is not a dancer, and he doesn’t want to learn to. He just wants Hannibal against him.

He places a hand on Hannibal’s shoulder and Hannibal tucks an arm around his waist, pulling him close. He knows Hannibal will know how to dance like the rest of them, but he’s content when the fingers of their other hand lace, their faces merely inches apart as they sway gently against each other. “What dance are they doing?”

Hannibal glances away to look, like he genuinely hasn’t noticed yet. “Ballroom dancing. Everyone is doing their own version of it.”

“What is it that we’re doing?” Will asks with a laugh, leaning his cheek against his shoulder for a moment.

“Breathing each other in,” Hannibal tells him, leaning in to press a kiss to his mouth briefly before pulling away. “I have no interest in that much space between us.”

“Good,” Will replies, stepping closer and closing the gap between their bodies completely. Their chests are flush against one another, and he can feel Hannibal’s thigh against his cock, brushing him with every gentle shift of their bodies in a slow circle. His body responds to it, and Hannibal grins as he leans forward to scent at Will’s neck, his breath ghosting across the skin in a caress. Hannibal’s hand on his upper back glides down, holding the small of his back firmly. 

They sway like this for a few songs, and Will honestly doesn’t know how much time really passes while they remain in each other’s arms.

“You are so beautiful,” Hannibal whispers against his jaw. “Your suit fits you perfectly. You are an absolute vision, Will.”

Will sighs, turning his face and pressing a kiss to Hannibal’s neck. “Do you see what you do to me? This isn’t appropriate,” he laughs.

Hannibal hums in agreement, but doesn’t do anything to pull away, yet. “Will you be terribly jealous if I danced with Mrs. Beaulieu? It’s been forever since I really danced.” Hannibal asks him, his lips gently brushing against Will’s cheek.

“If you’re as hard as you are right now, yeah, I’ll be jealous.”

Hannibal laughs, stepping away from him only a bit to damper the ache they’re both having because of their proximity. “I intend to wait until the effect you have on me dissipates, beloved.”

Will smiles against his shoulder, pressing a kiss there. “Then no, I don’t mind you dancing with her. Go slow, she’s no spring chicken.”

Hannibal laughs again, letting Will’s hand go to bring it to his jawline. “Rude.”

“You’ve known that for a while,” Will chuckles, letting his hand slide to Hannibal’s hip. They step back from each other a little more, dissipating the arousal they had both worked themselves up to.

When they could finally step away from each other without embarrassment, Hannibal takes his hand and presses a kiss to his wedding band. “I’m going to ask her for a dance.”

“You’re a sweet man,” Will says, and he blushes the moment the words are out of his mouth. He hated when Molly called him that, and yet he just said it to Hannibal.

Hannibal grins, seemingly knowing the cause of Will’s embarrassment. “Only for you.”

“I’m going to get another drink; do you want something for after your dance?”

“Chianti, if you don’t mind.”

Will nods as Hannibal walks off, heading to their table to lean over Mrs. Beaulieu. He knows the moment he asks her, as she beams up at him and blushes like a teenager. Will smiles at him when his eyes glance up and catch Will’s own.

Will heads to the darkened bar, ordering himself a whiskey and a chianti. He sips his whiskey here as he watches Hannibal dance with the older woman. Hannibal is a good dancer, and despite her age, she keeps up with him perfectly. He’s talking to her, though he doesn’t know what is being said. Whatever it is, she glances over to Will, beaming at him so brightly that Will blushes, smiling as he sips his drink. They continue dancing, and the look on her face as he easily glides her around the dancefloor makes Will fall in love with Hannibal a little more, if it’s even possible.

He’s smiling as he’s watching them, so he doesn’t immediately notice the man standing behind him. “Hello, Will.”

Will jumps, turning as Tristan invades his personal space. “Uh, hey.”

“Does he make you happy?” he asks, sipping a glass of champagne.

Will steps back from him, but Tristan steps forward, trapping him against the bar. “Does playing stupid usually work for you? I know you see me smiling at him, of course he makes me happy.”

“You’re a beautiful man,” Tristan says boldly, and Will grimaces.

“I’m not interested,” he grits out, side-stepping to the left to get away from him. Tristan’s arm blocks him in, and Will glares up at him. 

Tristan looks amused by that, stepping into his space further. “He takes good care of you, doesn’t he? You could have anyone you want. I would take care of you, too. He wouldn’t even need to know unless you wanted him to. Does he like watching? I’m not opposed.”

“You can fuck off,” Will says harshly, turning his face away as Tristan leans in. 

“Or I could fuck you,” he replies, touching Will’s hip. 

“Not. Interested.” Will replies, clearly enunciating each word. He presses his hand against Tristan’s sternum, pressing him back a few steps. “Now _fuck_ off,” he says again.

Tristan gives him a once over, his greasy eyes sliding over him one more time as he steps closer. “You look so flushed,” he says lowly, pressing himself against Will in a way that makes his hands shake. Will looks towards Hannibal’s wineglass, debating if he shatters it and shoves the stem into his face if Tristan would get the hint, then.

“Is there a problem?” Hannibal asks lowly, gripping Tristan’s wrist in a hard grip and turning his body, twisting his wrist painfully. Tristan winces, grunting through the subtle pain that Hannibal is inflicting on him. “Did you hear my husband tell you to fuck off?”

“I heard him,” Tristan replies, grimacing at the pain in his wrist as Hannibal twists it. “Look at him, Mr. Levensen. Flushed, shaking. I did that. Your paid-for husband is up for grabs.”

Hannibal’s face transforms into something other. His eyes are flat, his mouth is tight. The hard set of his jaw casts most of his face in shadow as he leans over the idiot, the unmistakable predator in Hannibal on full display. “You’d do well to walk away. If you so much as look at Will again, I will kill you.”

Tristan’s eyes widen at that, and he has the nerve to grin. “Keep threatening his suitors,” Tristan replies, shucking Hannibal’s grip off his arm. “There will eventually be one that sneaks by. Have a good evening.”

He walks off, and Will can feel the darkness and rage rolling off Hannibal. He can feel it in every bone of his body. Tristan was not living to see another day.

Hannibal glances up at him, and his expression doesn’t change very much. It’s almost like he’s considering Tristan’s words, and the thought alone makes Will sick. Will steps into his body, bringing his tense mouth down for a soft kiss. “I want to watch you take him apart,” Will says softly, pressing more gentle kisses to his jaw. “I want to watch you kill him, Hannibal.”

Some of the tension leaves Hannibal’s body, and he grips Will’s hip tightly in his palm. “Never leave me. Never touch someone else.”

“I won’t,” Will promises him, pressing more gentle kisses to his jaw and his cheek. “I’m in love with you. You know that, now come back to me, please.”

Hannibal pulls in a breath, and his shoulders relax more while his palm loosens it’s hold on his hip. “Forgive me,” Hannibal says softly, taking Will in his arms and holding him as though he were made of glass.

“Nothing to forgive,” Will replies, wrapping his arms around his narrow waist. “I’m never going to be unfaithful to you. I hope you understand that. I hope it’s as clear to you as it’s clear to me that you’d never do that, either.”

“I know, Will,” he sighs, tucking his fingers into Will’s curls. 

“I meant it, Hannibal. I want to watch you kill him,” Will says against his throat. “I want to see you.”

“You’re seeing me right now,” Hannibal says carefully, pulling away enough to look down at Will’s face.

“No,” Will shakes his head, maintaining eye contact. “I saw you when you were looming over him. I want to see that part of you. I want to see what you wanted to do to him. I want to see you, behind the veil.”

Hannibal glances away, tugging his upper lip between his teeth. “Bedelia saw me that way, and she was so horrified that she could barely look at me afterwards. I can’t lose you for it, Will. I won’t survive it if you look at me differently afterwards.”

“Did your opinion of me change when I stabbed and killed five men? Did you look at me as less after I stabbed Bedelia in the throat? No. I won’t change, Hannibal. Is this why you’ve been so careful? You think I won’t love you the same way after?”

“We will follow him home, then. We can return to him later tonight after I go to the house to collect some things.”

Will’s eyes widen as he looks up at Hannibal. “Really?”

Hannibal doesn’t look pleased, but he nods. “Yes, Will.”

They leave immediately after Tristan does, and Hannibal follows him in their car at a reasonable distance, and they note which dark house he pulls into. Hannibal drives them back to their house, and Will watches as he opens a door in the living room that doesn’t even look like it’s there. He pulls the bookcase out, and it glides open to reveal a narrow room that contains a plastic suit and various plastic sheets, knives, saws, gloves, and rope. Will looks at everything in the room, and his mouth is open as Hannibal packs all of it into a few duffel bags. 

“Did you have a room like this in Cuba?” Will asks.

“Yes,” Hannibal admits while zipping up the bag. “Under the floor in the study.”

“Jesus,” Will breathes.

“We won’t kill him in his house. I don’t have another suit for you, and I don’t want any evidence that you were there. You’ll wait in the car while I retrieve him,” Hannibal says while pressing a syringe into a glass vial, withdrawing some of the liquid into it before capping it.

“What is that?” Will asks, grinning despite himself. 

“A strong sedative,” Hannibal supplies, glancing up at Will with an unreadable expression. “I’m afraid to do this in front of you.”

“Please don’t be,” Will pleads. “I want to kill him, but I’d rather watch you do it. If you want, I’ll do it for you. Just know that I’d rather see you.”

“If you need time away from me afterwards, I will be understanding.”

“Hannibal,” Will sighs. “Trust me, please.”

They change into comfortable clothes, dark in color, before heading back to Tristan’s house. Hannibal parks at the end of the private driveway, dressing in his weird plastic suit. Will contains his laugh behind his hand. “That is a ridiculous looking thing,” Will whispers, chuckling behind his fingers as Hannibal glares at him.

“It’s efficient,” Hannibal defends, zipping it up to his neck.

“You look like Patrick Bateman from American Psycho,” he continues giggling. “Only you need a fucking axe.”

“Will,” Hannibal sighs like a martyr, but his mouth is gently quirked in a grin.

“Sorry,” Will clears his throat, biting his lip to keep from laughing. “Go get him, please.”

Hannibal pulls on a pair of gloves, and walks up the driveway, his plastic suit crinkling the entire way. Will is still laughing about it when he hears the door open, as Hannibal just rang the fucking doorbell to commit murder.

Hannibal is quick and efficient, the syringe plunged into his throat before Tristan could even flinch. Hannibal picks him up easily, carrying him to the open trunk and dropping him inside the spread-out plastic sheeting. “Christ, that was quick.”

“It’s always better not to dawdle,” Hannibal tells him, slipping around to the driver’s seat as Will settles into the passenger seat. 

“Now where?” Will asks, glancing around at the desolate street.

“I don’t have a room for it in this house,” Hannibal admits as they pull away from the curb. “But I have a place in mind.”

Hannibal takes them to an abandoned church that’s on the far outskirts of the city. The building is dilapidated and boarded up, and its so quiet out here that you can hear your own heartbeat. Hannibal goes inside with Will to survey the room, and it’s good enough for their needs. Will puts on gloves and helps Hannibal arrange some of the plastic sheets where he’ll need it, covering an old wooden table. Hannibal goes out to the car to get Tristan, laying his limp body on the table carefully before he begins cutting away his expensive suit. He leaves him in nothing but his underwear on the table. 

Hannibal ties him down to the table with the ropes that he brought, strapping him down using some methods that remind Will of BDSM ties. Hannibal takes a piece of cloth and shoves it into Tristan’s mouth just as he starts to wake up, duct taping his mouth closed around the cloth. 

Tristan makes protesting noises, his tired limbs tugging at his bindings harshly. Will comes over to him, tipping his head as he looks down at him. “Hello again,” Will says with a smirk. 

Tristan’s breathing is coming faster as he realizes who has taken him, his eyebrows furrowing in his confusion as he glances between Will and Hannibal.

“I suppose I should introduce myself, seeing as how we haven’t had a chance to meet properly,” Hannibal says politely as he looms over him. “Hannibal Lecter, perhaps you’ve heard of me?”

Tristan screams, but it’s muffled behind the cloth and duct tape. “I’d like to tell you that maybe you’ve learned now to never attempt to take what belongs to someone else. But dead men do not learn lessons, do they?” Hannibal grins. “My husband has killed nine people for me, now. I’ve not once returned the favor. You are the first person he’s asked me to kill, and I am not one to deny him anything. It’s been a _very_ long time for me, Mr. Reins. I intend to take my time with you.”

Tristan’s eyes are tearing up as he sobs behind his bindings.

And then Hannibal begins.

Will feels like he’s never seen Hannibal before this. Killing the dragon was one thing. One separate, desperate, fight for survival done in the heat of the moment. It had been necessary to kill Dolarhyde. 

This is done with reverence. Every cut to his skin is meant to inflict maximum pain but with minimum actual damage. His surgical skills are astonishing as he wields a scalpel to cut and nick at skin, peeling it and flaying it open to expose nerves and joints that will cause the most pain when severed.

Tristan is shivering as Hannibal cuts into him, his body struggling to stay alive and responsive as Hannibal tilts his head and removes swaths of skin, severing nerves with steady hands.

Will’s throat is dry as he watches, and all he can smell is the piss that Tristan has let loose, the coppery tang of blood in the air, and the sweat coming from Tristan’s body.

There isn’t a hair out of place on Hannibal’s head as he works, his gaze centered on his task with a singular focus. His eyes are pitch black in the low light of the church, the only lighting being a few flashlights pointed up to the ceiling. He’s every inch the dangerous predator that Will knew he was. His face is devoid of emotion, the sharp angles of his face casting most of it in shadow. 

After perhaps half an hour of peeling and flaying, Hannibal turns his hands inside Tristan’s abdomen, removing a kidney and dropping it to the plastic sheet below him. “I usually take parts to eat,” Hannibal tells Tristan, who barely looks conscious enough to hear him. “but you expressed an interest to be _inside_ of my husband. I will not be giving you that privilege.”

“If you want something from him, Hannibal, take it. I’ll eat whatever you make,” Will says softly. 

Hannibal glances up at Will as if just remembering that he’s there, the hard set of his jaw softening as he looks at him. “I don’t want any part of him inside of you.”

Will nods as he keeps removing organs anyway, dropping them to the plastic covered floor as though they were bits of trash. 

Will steps up to the table to see the hollowed out inside, and Will stills Hannibal’s hand as Tristan is hanging on to his last scrap of life. Will can see his heart fluttering in his open chest, and Will reaches into it with his bare hand, grasping the muscle in his fist and squeezing it.

He hears the hitch of Hannibal’s breath as he watches Will’s hand inside the body cavity. “ _Hannibal_ ,” Will sighs, glancing up at his beloved with dark eyes. There are no words for what Will is feeling right now. The intensity of it is tremendous. 

“Watch him, Will,” Hannibal says, nodding his head towards Will’s hand. “Watch him.”

Will turns his eyes back to his hand, which is squeezing Tristan’s heart in an attempt to stop it. It’s harder than he thought it would be, as the muscle is very strong. His hand slips as he grips it, pressing his thumb into the pericardium.

His eyes trail up to watch the life leave Tristan’s body, and Will’s mouth falls open as he watches him die and he feels the final flutter of his heart in his hand. Once he’s dead, he looks up at Hannibal and notes his blown out pupils, the wet, open part of his mouth. His dangerous husband. His _beautiful_ monster. Will loves him more than he thought possible.

The only sound now is their harsh breathing as they stare at one another, and the charge between them feels like arcing electricity. They need to get out of here, and now.

Hannibal doesn’t look like he can wait, and Will doesn’t think he can, either. They can’t fuck, not here. His cock is pulsing in his slacks as he looks at Hannibal. He doesn’t think he’d last that long, anyway.

Hannibal grabs at him, clawing him closer to his body while Will smashes their mouths together, tongues and teeth licking and nipping into each other. Hannibal picks Will up and places him on the back of a pew, and Will wraps his legs around Hannibal’s waist as they grind against one another, moaning and clawing as they flex their hips in search of relief. Will wants to claw him open and crawl inside of him. He wants to tear him with his teeth and take parts of Hannibal into himself. He wants to kiss him softly and lick into his mouth. He wants all of it, the pain and pleasure this man can give him. 

Will’s body is lit up, the feel of Hannibal’s long, hard, cock grinding down against his own makes hot zings of pleasure course through his gut and his abdomen. They’re moaning like they’re dying as they crash together, and Will is grasping at the fucking plastic of his suit as though he’s trying to claw it open. He can feel all of Hannibal’s coiled muscles rolling under his skin as he flexes against him. The raw power in his husband’s body never fails to send shocks of pleasure through Will when he feels it. Hannibal’s hands are grasping his ass, pressing him tight against his cock, and it feels so fucking intense that Will bellows out into the cavern of his mouth, muffling the noise by sealing their mouths together. 

Hannibal’s hips pick up speed and urgency while Will wraps his legs around him tighter, pressing his hips up desperately as he comes in his pants in thick, hot pulses. Will is gasping as Hannibal presses him down, dragging his cock harshly against Will’s body. Hannibal makes a tortured noise in his throat, his hips stuttering as he comes in the confines of his pants and his plastic suit. The both of them are breathless as they continue kissing and grasping at each other.

It takes a few minutes for them to come back down, and when they do, they both look embarrassed. “I thought we said we would keep this separate,” Will pants against his mouth, chuckling breathlessly.

Hannibal presses kisses to his neck, then his jaw. “I never thought it would be a problem. I thought I was going to have to wait for you to even want to kiss me after seeing me this way. I should know by now that you’ll never do what I expect.”

“You’re terrifying,” Will admits quietly. “Deadly and powerful. Disconnected from it as though you’re doing something that requires no effort. You’re cruel and masochistic, inflicting as much pain as possible with minimum damage. You’re so unbelievably beautiful I can barely look at you.”

“I take it you weren’t too offended,” Hannibal muses, pressing another kiss to Will’s mouth.

“No,” Will admits softly, chasing Hannibal’s mouth with his own and smiling when Hannibal teases him. “I think I’ve seen all of you, now. I see you, Hannibal. And I still love you. I still want you. I am still your husband.”

Hannibal shudders against him, tugging him close enough that Will’s ribs protest the tight hold, but he says nothing as Hannibal crushes him into his chest. “You’re my heart, Will. My soul. My very breath that lives outside of my body. I love you so dearly.”

“My soul,” Will agrees, pressing kisses to his cheekbones and his mouth. “Let’s get rid of him so we can go home, please.”

It doesn’t take as long as Will thought it would. Hannibal wraps the body and the organs in plastic, duct taping it shut like a plastic cocoon. He puts all of his instruments in a plastic container and seals it up, putting it in a plastic bag to take home to clean. When they leave the church, it looks like no one has ever been there to begin with.

They bring the body to a wooded area, carrying it deep enough into the woods that it’s out of sight before digging a fairly shallow grave and covering it up. Even if it’s found, there won’t be any evidence on it by the time it is.

When they get back to the house, Hannibal goes outside to burn the plastic sheeting and the heart that Will touched, sending plumes of black smoke into the air as it melts and chars in their firepit. Hannibal adds wood eventually, and Will joins him for a fire after he finishes in the shower. He throws the clothes he was wearing into the firepit, as they are covered in bloody hand prints from Hannibal’s hands on him when they were… thoughtless. 

Hannibal turns to him as Will settles into the wicker sofa, resting his feet on the edge of the fireplace. 

“I’m going to shower and change my pants,” Hannibal says with a chuckle. “I’ll come back as soon as I’m finished.”

Will nods as he slumps into the cushions, watching the wood burn and wondering if there was any trace of the heart left at this point. He doubts it. He looks up at the stars and recalls how he used to sit on his porch in Maine, looking up at them. He used to wonder if Hannibal could see them, too. If they were looking up at the same sky at the same time. He used to find peace in the thought of it. There’s a smile on his face as he realizes that he and Hannibal share the night sky, their lives, and the same last name, now.

Hannibal rejoins him as Will is adding a few more logs to the fire pit, and Hannibal settles against the sofa, dragging Will down into his lap. Will turns his body so that they’re facing each other, adjusting his leg so it rests over Hannibal’s thigh. Will presses his fingers into Hannibal’s chest, gliding his hands up until they’re cupping the sides of his jaw, and leans in to press a kiss to his lips. Hannibal presses him closer still, and they kiss for a few minutes by the light of the fire.

Will pulls away eventually, licking his lips of Hannibal’s flavor while his eyes search his face. “Did Bedelia see you the way you were tonight?” He asks with no small amount of jealousy in his voice.

Hannibal swallows, glancing down at Will’s lips before dragging his eyes back to Will’s own. “Never like that, no.”

“If I hadn’t been there, what would you have done differently?” Will asks curiously.

“I would have done exactly as I did. Maybe I would have displayed him in another time. It’s not safe to do that, now. I won’t risk you, or us, for that.” Hannibal pauses, looking up at Will’s eyes. “You had told me that you could not take the life of someone that was simply rude. That they’d need to deserve your wrath. He was not a killer, Will. He wasn’t a rapist, or anything else. He was just… forward. Are you… upset with yourself for this?”

Will swallows, glancing over to the fireplace as he tries to find the words for what he’s feeling. “I’m not upset at all,” he says carefully. “I don’t know, Hannibal. I don’t know what’s changed in me, or why. I know he’s not my definition of deserving, but I wanted him dead. He touched me. He said I was basically a prostitute. I wanted to shatter the wine glass of your chianti and shove it into his face. That’s why I was flushed and shaking. I was trying to contain it, but it felt like the darkness in me was bursting out from the seams.”

Hannibal looks almost pleased by that, and he runs his fingers up Will’s thigh to his hip. “I wondered what was going through your mind.”

“I want you to be you, Hannibal. I want you just as you were before. I’ve told you that, already. Do as you please. I want to be there with you and participate. That fucking butcher that we go to, what’s his name?”

Hannibal smirks while rubbing soothing circles over Will’s hipbone. “His name is Francis, actually.”

“No, it isn’t,” Will laughs, and it’s a full-belly laugh as Hannibal nods that it is. “Christ, okay. Well, I want him next. He is so God damned rude to you when we go there. The last time we went, when you asked what the pigs he slaughters were fed. He responded with, ‘food, moron.’ I want him. I want to slaughter him just like one of his pigs. You must know how to do it?”

Hannibal nods, swallowing tightly while he removes his hand from Will’s hip. “You want me again, like you saw me tonight? If that’s what you truly want, then I will give that to you. I will butcher our butcher. You asked to see me, and I let you see all of it, tonight. You wanted to see behind the veil. Bedelia used to call it that, too.”

“She told me,” Will admits softly. “That’s where I got it from.”

Hannibal considers that, trailing his warm hand against Will’s side. “There is no veil between us, Will. There is nothing between you and I that I feel the need to cover up or pretend. What you saw me do tonight is just a part of me. It’s not all that I am. You live with me behind the veil, now. When I am with you, I am not pretending anything. I am not biding time until I can kill again. What we pretend to be in the presence of those that do not matter could be considered a veil, but anything between you and I is not.”

Will bites his lip, glancing away from the intensity of Hannibal’s words. “I never thought that for a moment, Hannibal. I’m sorry if how I worded that offended you.”

Hannibal shakes his head, “It doesn’t offend me as much as it worries me. I don’t want you to think for a moment that who I am with you, when we are living in this house, is ever a pretend version of myself. I’ve never been so at ease around another person. This is me, Will. This is who I really am.” He leans forward and kisses Will until he’s breathless, tugging his fingers through his curls before pulling away. “Anything aside from my love for you is just something I do. You’re all that really matters.”

The tears that come to Will’s eyes are a surprise, as well as an embarrassment. He swipes at them harshly, and Hannibal takes his face in his hands and presses kisses to his eyelids while his gentle thumbs swipe the wetness at the hollows under his eyes. “I love you,” Will tells him, lacing his fingers through the hair at the nape of Hannibal’s neck. “You’re all that really matters to me, too.”

Hannibal’s arms come around his body, pulling him close as Will wraps his arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he does. They hold each other for a few minutes, each breathing each other in and holding tight. Will pulls away eventually but leans against Hannibal’s chest as he settles out into the cushions. “Chiyoh and Paulo are coming with the baby tomorrow,” Hannibal says eventually.

“I know. I got her a little something, remind me to give it to her,” Will says while running his fingers over Hannibal’s chest, feeling his heartbeat against his palm.

“What is it?” Hannibal asks, his mouth quirked up in a grin.

“She likes sun catchers,” Will tells him, and Hannibal looks surprised that Will knows that. “She told me that she likes them when she saw the sun crystal in our kitchen window. I’ve been meaning to get her one, and I found one that looks like a dragonfly.”

“Does she know the significance of that?” Hannibal asks, twirling one of Will’s curls around his long finger.

“I told her what I did to that man,” Will admits eventually. “She’ll understand.”

“It makes me so happy to see you two as a family,” Hannibal admits while pressing a kiss to Will’s hair. “Little Mischa is so precious. I am… fortunate, Will.”

“What did your Mischa look like?” Will asks, and he wonders if he should have.

“She was delicately beautiful. Golden hair and hazel eyes. They were a lot like yours. It depended on what she was wearing. Sometimes blue, sometimes green. Sometimes almost gray in color. She had very similar cheekbones as I do, but we got them from my father.”

Will smiles as he imagines her, trying to piece her together. “Curly hair?” Will asks, his eyes closed.

“Straight as a pin, just like mine,” Hannibal tells him. Will puts her together a little bit more.

“Thank you,” Will breathes, opening his eyes to find Hannibal watching him raptly.

“Do you think she’s beautiful, in your mind palace?”

“Yes,” Will tells him. And he does. He can picture her perfectly, chasing fireflies and standing by a stream, the color of the water reflected in her eyes as she gives Hannibal hell for being cruel to the fish. “You can talk about her whenever you want. I love to hear about her. So long as it’s not upsetting you.”

“Talking about her with you doesn’t upset me,” Hannibal says easily, tracing Will’s jaw with his thumb. “I love that she lives in you, possibly just as radiantly as she did in life. I love you for making room for her inside of your heart. I love you for giving her life in your mind.”

“She lives in you, too,” Will says softly, tracing his fingertips against Hannibal’s cheekbone. “She lives in your blood, she lives in your memories of her. She lives in every breath you take and every beat of your heart. There’s room for her inside of you, too.”

“You take up a lot of room,” Hannibal grins, and Will laughs. “You’ve stumbled through the foyer of my mind palace, knocking down walls and building new ones. You’ve rearranged the furniture and painted everything in gold. You’re terribly intrusive.”

“An inconvenience?” Will asks hesitantly, pressing his thumb gently against Hannibal’s bottom lip.

“A blessing,” Hannibal says softly, leaning forward to pull Will’s thumb into his mouth and hold it gently between his teeth. His tongue presses to the pad and he let’s the digit go, but Will keeps it right where it is, along the ridge of his bottom teeth. 

“An intrusive blessing?” Will laughs, gliding his thumb against the sharp edge of his teeth before slipping back to his soft bottom lip. “Sounds so pleasant.”

“You know I held my privacy to the highest regard. You were a blessing that I didn’t want. You made me want you anyway. Intrusive.”

“Rude of me, Doctor Lecter,” Will grins.

“Terribly rude, Mr. Lecter,” Hannibal agrees. “What’s to be done about that?”

Will leans forward to capture his bottom lip between his own, sucking the flesh into his mouth and nipping it gently before letting it go. “We could go in the house,” Will says suggestively, licking into his mouth briefly.

Hannibal nods, “Mm, and?”

Will pulls his top lip into his mouth and sucks the flesh between his lips, nipping it gently, too. “You and I…” Will says between damp kisses. “In the house…” he licks into his mouth. “Where you…” sharp nip to his jaw. “Take me in the kitchen…” rough bite against the skin of Hannibal’s throat, and Hannibal moans. “and cut me a slice of that chocolate cheesecake?”

Hannibal bellows out a laugh, gripping Will’s face in his large hands and crushing him in a deep kiss. “I adore you,” he says breathlessly as he pulls away. His face is flushed, and Will feels like his chest is about to cave in from the amount of love he has for this man. 

“Cheesecake and then bed, where you are going to bury yourself inside me until tomorrow.” Will says with a wide smile as Hannibal trails kisses down the side of his neck. 

“It is tomorrow,” Hannibal notes, glancing at his watch and showing Will that it’s after two am.

“Well, for hours, anyway.”

“Come on,” Hannibal says, scooting Will off his lap. “You’ll have to run for another twenty minutes tomorrow for it.”

“Worth it,” Will laughs. They lace their fingers as they head inside the house.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, folks! Thank you all so much for taking this angsty, porny, wild ride with me. There's one more one-shot for this story, but I've got to get in the right mindset to write it. 
> 
> You've all been so kind, and I appreciate every comment and kudos that I get. <3

Jack slips his fingers into the hand of his new wife, smiling as they cross the street in Galway, Ireland. He met Aisling here three years ago while he was on a vacation, a trip he decided to take after he was forced to take an early retirement from the FBI for his gross miscalculation about Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter.

He fell in love with her almost immediately. She’s his age, a widow. Her husband died a year before his Bella did. She’s unbelievably beautiful, silver hair only peeking through her naturally strawberry blonde locks. Her sense of humor is his favorite thing about her. 

She moves home with him after their brief affair here, and he proposes to her within the year. He has more time now that his work didn’t consume his life. Despite being fired, he still looked for Will and Hannibal for the better part of a year, until Aisling told him it was stop or she was done.

He decided to stop.

He heard that they had gotten married, and Jack spent that night getting so drunk that Aisling sat down with him and took the bottle of whiskey out of his hand, sipped it, and asked him to tell her about them.

He unloaded on her.

His biggest concern… His biggest _regret_ is that he doesn’t know how he miscalculated so badly. How could he have been so far off about Will? How did he miss that the shy, quiet, man who he relied on for his most difficult cases was actually the thing he had sent him out to hunt?

She shakes her head when he asks her that, her long hair falling over her shoulder as she pierces him with her blue-green eyes. “Will Graham was your friend. You trusted him, and I respect that he broke that trust. From what you’ve told me, it sounds like he fought who he was for a long time. It also sounds a bit like Hannibal saw it in him and nurtured it to light. You want to see everything in black and white, good and evil, but a person cannot be defined as one or the other. Will is a killer. He’s also a shy man who likes to fish. Will is a murderer, but he also worked hard and put his mental health on the line to get other murderers off the street. Hannibal was your friend, too. And I know you think that he was pretending to be, but I don’t think that. He might not be a good man, but he’s also not evil. Stop tormenting yourself for seeing the good in others.”

And so he did. That was over a year ago, and now they’re back in Galway for their two-year anniversary to visit her family. He hasn’t thought of them in a long time, but something about Europe, something about Ireland, reminds him of Hannibal. He sees the old architecture and fine art, and he just knows Hannibal would appreciate it. Thinking of them again feels like resurrecting the dead, and Jack shakes his head to clear the thought.

They decide to go to a local distillery for some good Irish whiskey, and they head inside the old building, allowing their eyes to adjust to the dimness of the room. Her family joins them there, and they pick a table and laugh and drink, sampling different whiskies for the evening. He stands from the table, announcing that he’d be back. Whiskey was rented, not bought, and he had to piss.

He walks back through the darkened hall that leads to the other side of the distillery, towards the bathroom when he sees them.

He’s almost certain he’s hallucinating, but he blinks a few times, and they’re still there. 

Hannibal looks very much the same, aside from his hair being a little longer and owning a few more fine lines around his eyes. He doesn’t think they’re from aging, the bastard. He thinks it’s from all the fucking _smiling_ he’s doing.

Will hasn’t aged a single day, still youthful and wide-eyed. His hair is longer, too, but swept to the side where it falls in in a riot of curls against the nape of his neck. He’s shaved clean, and Jack has never seen him that way before. His green sweater doesn’t hide the bruising on his neck, and Jack frowns as he realizes they are fucking _hickies_.

Will Graham, no, Will _Lecter_ , now, is sitting in a booth, his body turned towards and pressing against Hannibal Lecter. Will’s face is flushed, likely drunk, and smiling and talking animatedly with his fucking _husband_ , who looks at him like he’s seeing the stars in the sky for the first time.

He stands frozen for a few minutes, wondering what the fuck kind of luck he has, and debating what to do. He could call someone. Have them swarmed in a minute. He reaches into his pocket for his cellphone, touching the glass of the screen with his thumb as he debates what to do.

He watches as Will leans forward and presses a kiss to Hannibal’s mouth, touching his jaw affectionately as Hannibal leans in again, kissing him soundly. Hannibal’s fingers are tucked into the wild mess of Will’s curls, and he feels like he’s fucking intruding. 

Jack thinks of Aisling, for some reason. He decides it’s not his fish and not his pond. Not his problem anymore. It doesn’t mean that he isn’t going to get some answers from them, though.

He walks over and settles into the booth opposite them, both of them startling when they realize who it is. Will’s expression changes to one of panic, while Hannibal eyes the steak knife on the table before Jack holds up a placating hand. “Not here to arrest you,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “I’m here on a trip for my anniversary. I couldn’t give a shit anymore about chasing either of you down.”

Will leans into Hannibal, and Hannibal adjusts his body to make room for Will without breaking eye contact with Jack. They move so synchronized it’s like watching dancers that have known their routine for years. It’s unnerving, to say the least.

“Jack,” Will says eventually, sipping his whiskey and placing it down on the table. Hannibal adjusts for his arm, leaving no space between them. “Congratulations on your wedding.”

Jack flags a waitress, ordering another round of whiskey for all of them. “Congratulations on yours, as well,” Jack says harshly. “You killed two of my men to get him, Will. Was it worth it?”

Will says nothing while the waitress places three glasses on the table, waiting for her to walk away before speaking. Hannibal is still watching him, and he finds his gaze to be unsettling.

“I wish there would have been a better way, but yes. It was worth it,” Will admits, twirling his glass on the table.

“How’s married life, Hannibal?” he asks. No need for the doctor title anymore. Hannibal was not licensed in any capacity, now. Jack takes spiteful pleasure in the little moue of distaste that using his first name brings to the curl of his mouth.

“It’s more than I’ve imagined it to be,” he replies, sliding an arm behind Will’s back to rest against his side. Will adjusts for him almost unconsciously, shifting his body towards Hannibal’s minutely. Jack watches them and wonders how long they’ve been like this. Have they _always_ been like this? “Did you meet your new wife here?”

Jack nods, glancing down at his whiskey. “About three years ago, now.”

“Will and I are on holiday,” Hannibal replies, letting Jack know not-so-subtly that they do not live here. “I’ve always wanted to take him to Ireland so he can try the good whiskies of the world.”

“It’s been… an eventful vacation,” Will replies with a wide smile, glancing over at Hannibal who blushes, who actually fucking _blushes_ , in return. 

“You let Will kill your therapist,” Jack says to break whatever tension was rising between them, and it works. Will’s eyes snap back to his, and Hannibal shifts minutely closer to Will, his hand grazing Will’s hip. 

“I didn’t _let_ him do anything, Jack. He does as he pleases. I am not his keeper, nor his jailer. One could argue that in my company, he is the freest he’s ever been,” Hannibal says with an arch of his eyebrow, pursing his lips. 

Will arches an eyebrow at Jack in a mirror image of the look that Hannibal is giving him, though Will wouldn’t know it. It’s done unconsciously. He leans into Hannibal’s body a little more, and Jack feels like a fucking third wheel. “She wanted to write a book about us,” Will says lowly. “About me. She wanted to dissect us and make us out to be a sideshow. I didn’t let that happen.”

Jack sips his whiskey, tipping his head as it burns on the way down. “You _ate_ her. It was a fucking sideshow, Will. Whatever you were trying to prevent by killing her and eating her leg, it did the opposite.”

Will shrugs, sipping his whiskey and Jack notices their matching wedding bands. He knows they’re married. He knows it because there are court documents to prove it. It’s still so fucking _strange_ to see, that he stares at them, and Hannibal notices it. “What bothers you more? The thought that Will is here with me voluntarily, or the thought that I’ve manipulated him to be?”

Will looks surprised by the question, turning his head to press a kiss to Hannibal’s cheekbone. As though the idea that Hannibal is offended is something Will feels he needs to soothe, and Hannibal tucks him closer to himself in response. They were too fucking intense. Jack shifted in his seat, looking away from the blackhole in front of him. “Any illusion I had about Will Graham being with you against his will was shattered the moment I heard about your marriage.”

“ _Lecter_ ,” Will corrects him, sipping his whiskey with a smirk. “I never get to tell people my real name, so you’ll forgive me when I enjoy telling you that it’s Lecter, now.”

Hannibal smiles at that, pressing a kiss into Will’s wild curls. “How could I forget?” Jack sighs. “Molly remarried. Don’t know if you knew that, but they’re expecting a baby.”

Will rolls his eyes, sucking his teeth. “Good for her. Whatever you’re trying to do, just _don’t_ , Jack.”

“Just trying to figure out how much of what I knew about you was true, and what wasn’t,” Jack admits, sipping his whiskey.

“What you knew of my husband was real,” Hannibal says, and his tone is verging on threatening. “What we do together, and our love for one another does not negate our personalities as you knew us. He is still Will. He still loves our dogs. He still works on boat motors. He still loves to go fishing.”

Will grins at that, shrugging his shoulders and Hannibal slides his hand from Will’s hip to grip his waist. “All true,” he concedes with a shy grin.

It upsets Jack more than he cares to admit hearing that, and then to see proof of the shy, awkward, man that he knew all those years ago. “I still don’t understand what you want with him,” he says automatically. “Why are you with him? Why not leave him be?”

Hannibal grins as Will leans over the table, his eyes dark and dangerous as he stares Jack in the eyes. _Will Graham_ , initiating and maintaining eye contact. “He’s with me because he loves me. He’s not two dimensional, either. You think all he does is kill and think about killing? You think all he’s capable of is lying and betraying? You don’t know him. You don’t know the quiet man that likes to sketch and read. The attentive lover that likes to laugh and tease. The caring man that enjoys cooking for me and playing the piano for me. You don’t know us, so don’t ask questions that you won’t like the answers to.”

Jack grimaces at that, shaking his head as if to clear it. The idea of them living somewhere, living such normal lives, immersed in such a loving marriage, makes him uncomfortable for reasons he’s not too sure about. “You’re with him knowing that he’s killed Beverly. Abigail. All those victims that you worked so hard to find justice for. I just… Will, the man I knew would not forget about that. The man that I knew could not disregard that for the sake of love. No matter how... _intense_ it might be.”

Will sits back in his seat, twirling his glass against the worn wood of the table. Hannibal adjusts for his posture, sliding his arm around to hold him against his side. They’re so in tune, Jack wonders briefly what would happen if he could get them in separate rooms. He wonders if Hannibal would move when Will moves, even if he wasn’t there to see it. The thought unnerves him, and he sips his drink to settle the feeling. “I haven’t disregarded any of it. I’ve considered it. I’ve beaten myself up about it. I married Molly thinking I could forget about him. I never did. The hole inside of me was in the exact shape of Hannibal. Nothing he has ever done, or ever will do will make me leave him. I’m sorry, Jack. I’m sorry that I’ve hurt you, and I’m sorry that my decision has clearly weighed on you.”

“He’s tried to kill you. Twice,” Jack reminds him, glancing to Hannibal who doesn’t look concerned about Will thinking about it.

Hannibal nods, “And he’s tried to kill me. Three times.”

Will wrinkles his nose, turning to Hannibal with a huff of laughter. “Was it three times? I sent the Brown guy to you, that’s one, the cliff, that’s two. When else?” 

“The knife in the plaza after we left the Uffizi gallery,” Hannibal reminds him with an arch expression.

“Oh, that doesn’t count,” Will laughs, and Hannibal smiles at him like he hung the stars in the sky. “I don’t think I wanted to kill you. If anything, you’ve tried to kill me three times. You sent that weirdo to my house in his cave bear outfit.” Will tips his head, and Hannibal works a few fingers into his curls at the nape of his neck. “What was his name? Christ, I fucking killed him, I should remember his name.”

“Randall Tier,” Hannibal supplies. “I sent him to you because you sent me an idiot in a speedo. What an _insult_ that was,” Hannibal laughs. “I’ve technically only tried to kill him with my hands one time. That night in Baltimore, I did not want to kill him. If I did, I assure you, he would have been very, very dead.”

Will shrugs at that, sipping his drink. “So, the actual tally is two for two.”

Jack watches them with his mouth hung open, discussing their attempted murders of one another like loving memories. “ _Anyway_ ,” Jack interrupts them, his voice stern enough to make Hannibal squint at him. 

“We’re well past that, now,” Will laughs, tipping his face and welcoming Hannibal to press a kiss to his cheek. 

Jack shakes his head, sipping his whiskey. “This is fucked up.”

Hannibal laughs, and Will grins as he sips his own drink. “Never thought I’d see you again.”

“I hoped I wouldn’t see either of you,” Jack admits with a laugh. “Are you… Christ, are you still killing?”

Hannibal’s mouth purses, and Will turns his head to look at Hannibal, touching his leg under the table. “Don’t ask questions you won’t like the answers to,” Will replies eventually.

Jack sighs, tipping the rest of his drink down his throat. “Well, that answers that. You’re discreet about it, then. I haven’t caught wind of displays or anything else.”

Will hums, angling his body back into the space that Hannibal makes for it. The silence that follows is decidedly awkward.

“It was good to see you,” Hannibal says evenly, clearly warning Jack away from them at this point.

“Was it?” Jack asks him. “I used to consider you a good friend. Was it ever real?”

Hannibal licks his lips, sipping his as-of-yet untouched drink. “As Will told you, I am capable of more than killing and lying. I enjoyed your company. I looked forward to your visits. You were a friend until you were not.”

“Will always said the ripper wouldn’t fit in any conventional mold that profilers had of your kind,” Jack replies evenly, turning to Will. “Are you happy?”

Will smiles softly at that, turning his face to press a kiss to Hannibal’s cheekbone, and the older man closes his eyes as Will’s lips make contact with his skin. “Yes,” Will replies, leaning back into Hannibal’s body. “I finally found the courage to take what I wanted. Jack, I will do whatever I need to do to keep him. Make no mistake about me.”

“He is not a fragile teacup anymore,” Hannibal grins, and something about the statement makes Will smile wider. 

“I’m the mongoose you want under your house when a snake slithers by,” he replies. Something about that makes Hannibal beam pridefully, and he presses a kiss to Will’s temple as they laugh.

“I’ve got to piss,” Jack announces, hauling himself out from the booth. “I never saw either of you, you get me? I don’t want to run into you again on my vacation. So maybe it’s time to go sample the local whiskies somewhere else.”

Hannibal tips his head at the not-so-subtle warning while Will smirks up at him. Their bodies are angled together in a seemingly relaxed pose, but Jack is picking up the subtle warning in them, too. “Noted,” Will says eventually, and the rigidity in Hannibal’s posture relaxes a bit with that.

Jack heads to the restroom, his head spinning and his hands shaking. When he’s done, he comes back to the booth, but they’re already gone. He goes to the window and sees them in the distance, Hannibal’s arm around Will’s waist as they walk away. He should call someone. He should care that two psychopath murderers are out and about, killing and living life to the fullest. 

He reaches for Hannibal’s neglected whiskey instead, tossing it back. 

He doesn’t call anyone, though. Maybe it’s residual guilt over all the hell he’s put Will through, taking him to crime scenes and causing damage to his mind with each one. Will looked… happy. He looked absolutely _blissful_. Jack had never seen him like that, and the only comparison he could find for the way the two of them are together is how he was with his Bella. 

He wouldn’t take that from them.

He’s staring out the window at their retreating forms, and he sees Hannibal lean down to kiss him. Hannibal Lecter. _The Chesapeake Ripper_. In love with an empath that was covered in dog hair and had motor grease under his fingernails.

He laughs to himself at the thought, shaking his head. 

What he tells himself is that it’s not his fish, and not his pond. What he actually feels, though, is that it’s not his place to take that happiness from them.


End file.
